


Shampain for Closers

by MelodramaticMrTails



Series: Talon [1]
Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abuse, Broken Bones, Emotional Manipulation, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, M/M, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Paralysis, Temporary Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-08-13 22:08:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16480655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MelodramaticMrTails/pseuds/MelodramaticMrTails
Summary: Slade and Jason manage to catch Talon, not that this is particularly good for them. Unable to let his brother go home to Owlman as a failure, they hold him hostage while they try to figure out what to do next.





	1. Talon

**Author's Note:**

> my kink is talon being mean
> 
> note!! talon says some very mean, sometimes graphic things that is unclear whether he's telling the truth or not that allude to: necrophilia, incest both ‘pseudo’ and ‘actual’, death, broken bones, abuse, and rape. he also strongly implies Dick/Jason stuff!! these things are only mentioned by talon and there's no actual content of them

 

“Another dead end,” Jason grumbles, flicking the end of his cigarette to the ground and rubbing it out under his boot.

“We figured it would be going in,” Slade reminds him. As much as they were hoping for something more, it was a shot in the dark and they both knew it. They'll just have to try something else. Again.

“I know,” Jason scoffs curtly. “I was still expecting  _something_. They were a credible source, there was-” Slade stops listening which is good because Jason stops talking. Something’s wrong.

He has his sword out in a second, blade brandished out to protect Jason from the incoming blow. Slade feels the sheer force in his palms as the electrified escrima stick collides with his blade at full speed, severing itself on his sword. Half of it rockets off down the alley, the hallow sound of it bouncing against concrete echoing between the buildings. Jason turns slow, a stunned look to his face.

“So you  _are_  quick.”

Richard Grayson aka Talon aka  _Jason's older brother._

Dick tosses down the other half of his stick and promptly reaches back to retrieve his spare, twirling both sticks in his hands as he smiles. This isn't good. They've been working hard to make sure Dick, nor his father, knew Jason was alive. When and how they slipped up is a question for later at the moment.

“Come on, it's time to come home, Jason,” Dick says. Jason instinctively takes a step back and Slade moves better to defend him. They weren't prepared for this fight and honestly, Slade isn't confident in how it's going to go. Dick frowns.

“We’re gonna be like that?” he asks, sounding disappointed. “Well, either you can come home-” he points a stick at Jason. “Or I can kill your little playmate.” He points both of them at Slade with a smile. “Again and again and again and  _again_.”

Slade doesn't exactly like the idea of finding out how many creative ways Dick can murder him.

He moves first, it's really the only way to get any kind of advantage on Talon and even then, it's miniscule. Dick ducks out of the way in the same instant, quickly retaliating by landing two solid blows against Slade’s shoulders. This isn't going to go well. Dick is fast and the sheer force of his blows make it clear exactly how much he wants Slade dead. His escrima sticks aren't intended to be lethal but one bad blow and Slade knows he'll be paralyzed, if not straight unconscious, for Dick to do with as he wants.

Jason doesn't stand idly by, of course. He fires off a shot but unsurprisingly, Dick moves out of the way. The tight quarters of the alley don't do either of them any favours; Slade’s sword is too long and Jason is too close- Dick is too mobile. Jason doesn't actually want to hurt his brother, either, and the extra time it takes to line up a nonfatal shot, even if it's barely a half second more, is more than enough time for Dick to respond. If he can help it, Slade doesn't want to hurt him either but if he has to choose between Jason and Dick, he's picking Jason.

Not that it matters when Dick is thoroughly beating the shit out of them. He knocks Jason's guns away sooner than later and by the audible crack Slade hears, he's certain one of Jason's hands is broken. Fortunately, Dick is refraining from injuring Jason sustainably as well, even if that's only because Owlman would be pissed otherwise.

Slade loses grip of his sword from a series of relentless strikes. Jason tries to intervene, tries to give him a chance to react, but Dick cracks him so hard in the head, Jason loses balance. He swipes at Slade’s forearm suddenly, sending his sword flying, and from there, he's on Slade in a second. Slade grabs his sticks, knowing it's a poor idea with bare hands but not having much of a choice. The shock hurts but he's a little tougher than most people and he bares through it enough to wrestle Dick's escrima sticks out of his hands.

Dick almost seems impressed. It doesn't last long, of course, as he immediately kicks off a wall and puts Slade on the ground with a solid kick to the jaw. He locks his arm around Slade’s neck, leveraging his grip with the other arm and cutting off his air immediately. Slade grabs to try to loosen it but Dick is steadfast. He's always stronger than he looks.

“Ready to go home, little wing?” Dick asks. Jason reaches for Slade’s sword. “I was hoping not.”

A broken neck is not instantaneous, not really. Slade is fully aware of the sudden, jarring motion Dick makes that twists one of his cervical vertebrae violently out of place. He hears the connecting tissue and the veritable ‘snap’ they make twice as loud. He feels the sudden  _absence_  of his own body as his nerves are cut off.

He feels his heart stop.

Slade comes to fairly quickly. The second he's alive again, he remembers what was happening. His body takes a second longer to respond before he's forcing his eyes open and his body off the ground. He's still in the alley, it's still cold.

Jason's still here.

“Slade?” Jason asks, distinctly out of breath. “You ‘ight buddy?” Slade stumbles to his feet and regains his composure again. Aside from some obvious bruising, Jason is fine and Dick is thoroughly handcuffed on the ground. That won't hold him forever but he seems dazed at the moment and knowing Jason, those cuffs won't be picked from the angle Dick has on them.

“Fine,” Slade assures. “Good work.” Jason nods curtly.

“Someone finally taught you how to fight dirty,” Dick says in amusement. He shifts in his cuffs, managing to push himself up into a sitting position. “We've been trying to teach you that for years.”

“Red,” Slade says firmly. “Let's go.” Jason doesn't move.

“I can't,” he says. “I can't let him go back to Owlman. ‘specially now that he's failed.” As much as Slade hates it, he saw this coming. Jason still loves his brother even if Dick lives up to his name. He thinks Dick is a victim and maybe he is but he's a victim that fully wants Slade dead and would drag Jason kicking and screaming back home. Maybe Dick loves Jason somewhere under all that twisted, violent exterior too but he's not an ally.

“Are you sure?” Slade confirms. Jason gives him an unamused look. “Just making sure. Fine. What do you want to do?”

“Aw, little brother doesn't want me to get in trouble,” Dick purrs teasingly. “How sweet.”

“I don't know,” Jason admits. “We can't risk him gettin’ free close to us. I've disabled his gear but if he catches us off guard or calls Bruce, we're sittin’ ducks.” If Owlman finds them, they're dead in the water. The fact that Dick found them already isn't good and preludes to his mentor not being far behind.

“We need to move,” Slade says.

“I won't get in trouble if you just come home, you know,” Dick assures in a tone that is much too sincere and much too fond- like he's actually trying to encourage Jason to do the right thing. Slade isn't sure what Owlman would do to Jason if he came back and he doesn't want to find out.

He crouches down to Dick's level and Dick gives him a curious look like he's not sure what he's doing. Slade withdraws his phone from his pocket and shines the light in Dick's face. He doesn't even flinch.

“His pupil is blown,” Slade says. “I think you gave him a concussion. We'll have to watch that.” Dick smiles at him, a charming thing like he's almost saying thank you.

“I see why Jay took a liking to you,” he assures. “A toy that doesn't stay broken.” Slade sees it happen but he doesn't have the room to move back far enough or his hands free to stop it. Dick suddenly has twisted his arms out in front of him, cuffs and all, and catches Slade’s neck in his arms again.

“Dick  _don't_!” Jason shouts. Dick breaks his neck again.

This time when Slade revives again, he's at least propped up against a wall. Dick is even more tied up than he was last time and he actually looks unhappy about it. Jason has obviously earned a black eye for his effort. With his wrists cuffed and his arms zip tied strategically, Dick can't wriggle his arms out in front of him no matter how much he tries to pop his joints out of place with his hyperextension. His ankles are zip tied just in case, too.

“Shit, sorry Slade,” Jason murmurs when he sees Slade up and awake again. “Shoulda warned you he’s still a ass tied up.”

“Lesson learned,” Slade comments drly.

“Jason,” Dick says in a soft whine. “This actually really hurts. Could you loosen them?”

“No,” Jason replies. He knows better than anyone that giving his brother any leeway, physically or metaphorically, is a bad idea. Dick is a master manipulator and this is barely scratching the surface of it. This is a joke to him. If not for the fact that he worships the ground Owlman walks, he'd surely be able to even wrap him around his pretty fingers.

“Liar,” Slade says. Dick's expression of discomfort evaporates in an instant, changing to a mischievous grin as he tries to wriggle free again.

“I bet I could make you come by fucking your eye socket,” Dick purrs. An uncomfortable shudder goes down Slade’s back. He's not exactly the kind of guy to be made uneasy but Dick somehow manages it easily. There's something about him that's just so- wrong. “Jason probably already does. I bet he takes advantage of you while you're dead.  _Fucks_  your corpse to his heart's content?”

“Ignore him,” Jason murmurs, obviously more than a little uncomfortable himself. “He'll get bored.”

“We can't travel with him like this and we can't leave him anywhere. I'm sure the only reason he hasn't screamed bloody murder now is because he's still dressed like Talon,” Slade says and Jason nods in agreement. “We need to take him to Sionis. Until we figure out what to do with him, he needs to be sedated.”

“Kinky,” Dick muses.

“Yeah, good idea,” Jason agrees. “I can't believe I've taken my own brother hostage.”

“You better figure out your end goal for this soon,” Slade says. He picks Dick up, reluctantly really, and flings him over his shoulder where, hopefully, he can do the least damage. Dick almost immediately tries kneeing him in the genitals, fortunately not nearly balanced enough to succeed. He huffs mildly but, thankfully, doesn't squirm much after that.

They take the back alleys to avoid being seen too much. Around here, not many people take a second look at people like them if they know what's good for them. Slade and Jason don't talk much, don't touch much, far too aware of Dick listening and watching even while being carried like a deer carcass.

“If you hold me the other way, I can suck you off,” Dick offers. Slade continues to ignore him. It's hard sometimes. “You smell like blood.”

“Dick, shut up,” Jason says irritably.

“What? I just think it's not very fair, is all,” Dick urges. “I kill a  _couple_  guys that deserve it and  _I'm_  the bad guy but Slade kills his own son and you get down to worship his cock?” It's not even like Slade can do anything in return. Dick likes receiving pain almost as much as he likes dishing it out. There's no use in getting to him emotionally, either, Slade is pretty sure he's constructed entirely of violent sexual energy, sadism, and a want to please Owlman- and he's not even sure of the last one.

“I did it because of you, you know,” Dick says. Jason clenches his jaw. Slade can feel Dick's hot breath on his back, the way he tugs at Slade’s shirt with his teeth and grins. He's not even trying to escape, he's just being an asshole. “I killed him because he took you away from me. Broke his scrawny, white neck like a toothpick. I love the sound.”

“Shut  _up_ , kid,” Slade snaps. It doesn't exactly do much good. He doesn't understand why Jason even cares about Dick so much. They're not even blood related.

“Dad was so mad. He wanted to do it. He's wanted to do it for years,” Dick goes on with a purely sexual groan. “He broke my knee as punishment you know. It's never been the same.” Jason looks like he's going to be physically ill. “Still hurts when it rains. I think about you when it does.”

This is what Slade means. Even he can't tell if the waiver in Dick's voice is real, a quiet mourning of the brother he lost and how badly he wanted killing the Joker to bring him back only to be punished for it instead. Or if it's just another ploy to get Jason to feel guilty, for them to feel sorry for him, and let their guard down. He wants to think Dick has those kinds of feelings somewhere in him,  _hopes_  he does, but he's never shown proof of them.

“You can come home, little wing,” Dick says. “Dad stopped being mad a long time ago. He just wants to know you're okay. Everything can go back to how it was.”

That's the entire problem.

Slade swings Dick a little too hard as they round a corner, banging his head on a metal post and knocking him out. Hopefully. He's still breathing, anyways. Jason looks at him mildly.

“What? He likes the pain,” Slade assures. “He was pissing me off.”

“He already has a concussion,” Jason reminds him. Slade shrugs.

“Nothing we can do about it now,” he says.

“Don't kill him,” Jason says with a stressed sigh. Slade shrugs again.

Jason knocks as they arrive at Sionis’ latest penthouse. For as much as he moves around to keep Owlman off his tail, he can never seem to figure out how to go with something more discrete. Sionis’ assistant, and husband, answers the door. He blinks up at the two of them tiredly, obviously having been awoken, and stares. He doesn't look happy to see them but Slade has learned that's just how his face looks.

“Mr. Hood,” he says. “Mr. Wilson.”

“Good afternoon, Li,” Slade replies.

“It's almost one am,” Li says. “Mind telling me why you brought one of Owlmen’s ‘offspring’ to Sionis’ door? Are you trying to get us all killed?”

“I need a favor,” Jason replies. Li stares at them a moment long, exhales tiredly, and motions them in.

“Quickly before someone who shouldn't see, does,” he urges. They don't have to be told twice. “I hope he's properly secured. Have a seat. Roman! It's Red and Mr. Wilson!”

Slade more or less dumps Dick on the couch while Li wanders off towards the kitchen. It's obvious they woke the two of them up because Roman isn't even wearing his face when he comes out. Even now, it's strange to see him without his silicon mask on, the burned remains of his actual face hard to look at with feeling an empathetic sting in his own.

“Shit, what's good, baby,” Roman greets. “It's late, you- the fuck is that? Did you bring fuckin’  _Talon_  into my goddamn home, Red?”

“He's-” Jason hesitates. Roman doesn't know he's one of Owlmen’s prodigies. It's probably best not to tell him, either. “An old friend. Very old. I need help.”

“Damn right ya do,” Roman murmurs and despite everything, he sits in the living room with the rest of them, easily within reach of Dick. He watches his unconscious body carefully, though, like he expects him to be able to attack in his sleep. Hopefully that's not something he can do. Li brings tea out.

“If he gets back to Owlman with my identity, and  _Slade’s_  identity, we're fucked,” Jason says. “We need him sedated for now.”

“Fa’ now?” Roman repeats. Li sits in his lap lazily, leaving them to help themselves to tea- which no one does. “How long we talkin’?” Slade gives Jason a look that says he'd like to know as well.

“Does it matter?” Jason asks irritably. His accent is always heavier around Roman. “Just long ‘nough for us to figure somethin’ else out. Couple days at least.” Roman makes a face at him- maybe? He doesn't really have face muscles but Slade is pretty sure he's trying.

“‘ight,” Roman says slowly. “Anythin’ fo’ you, Red. I know I done asked ya ta do worse shit fer me. Just know, ya keep ‘im on this shit fo’ too long ‘n he's gonna be facin’ some serious side effects. If ya like ya friend alive ‘n kickin’, figure somethin’ else out.”

“I will,” Jason assures. Roman leans in to kiss Li- or rather, lets Li kiss him considering his lack of lips at the moment.

“I'll go mix up a lil’ somethin’ fo’ ya,” Roman says, moving Li out of his lap. He hoists Dick over his shoulder and heads for a different room. At any rate, they know Roman is thorough and will keep Dick well sedated for as long as they ask. He doesn't care if Talon dies or not, he only cares how that would affect Jason.

Roman and Li have been good friends for years.

Li makes himself a cup of tea and gestures for them to do the same. They help themselves.

“Aw  _shit_ , bitch bit me!”

“I think Dick's awake,” Slade says. Jason lets out a stressed exhale. He sets his tea down and heads to help Sionis control his brother. Li looks at Slade.

“Ya fuckin’ cunt!”

“You know we'll have to move penthouses after this, right?” Li asks.

“I know,” Slade agrees. “Sorry for the inconvenience.”

“No need for apologies,” Li assures. A loud clattering comes from the other room. “My point is, Owlman likely has a way to track Talon. You disabled his gear but Owlman doesn't like losing his things. I would not be surprised if he has an embedded tracker.”

“Yeah, you may have a point,” Slade agrees. A crashing.

“I would take him to Crane. If Talon does have an internal tracker, he'll be able to remove it,” Li suggests. “I believe you and Red may be a little out of your depths with this one but I wish you luck with your ‘friend’.” Silence.

“Thanks,” Slade says. “We appreciate it.”

Roman drops Dick back on the couch and, fortunately, he looks properly sedated. He's still awake but he's untied and when he's dropped, he just sort of lays there. Even with his blown pupil, his eyes look for away and distracted. He looks at Slade a long time like he's thinking then he smiles, looks to Jason, around the room, then lazily rolls his head to the side and smiles at the floor. He's incredibly out of it. Good.

“That should do it,” Roman scoffs. There's a clear bite mark on his arm. He pulls a small bottle from his pocket, clearing his throat and forcing his thick Gotham accent back. “One dose every eight hours. This stuff’s potent, don't be OD’in’ him. This one-” he pulls a different bottle from his other pocket. “‘ll make sure he sleeps. One dose, one hour. Four doses, four hours. Eight doses, eight hours. Nine doses, forever. Get it?”

“We get the picture,” Slade assures. Roman hands the bottles to Li to be packed for them.

“Ten minutes ‘fore he wakes, give him the daytime one. Ten minutes before the daytime wears off, give ‘im the night one,” he instructs. “Once his body adjusts to it, he should be functionin’ on his own.”

“I ever tell you you're a genius?” Jason asks, watching as Li packs the two bottles with a syringe and a package of needles. Roman laughs.

“Don't just yet,” he replies. “This stuff sedates ‘im only ‘nough ta make sure you can handle ‘im. His aggression should be muted but if pressured, he'll still fight back. I ain't know how much that'll take so don't stress ‘im if you can manage.”

“We'll keep that in mind,” Slade promises. With Dick limp and his limbs unresponsive, it's hard to carry him over the shoulder without flinging his limbs all over the place. Dick laughs as Slade picks him back up, hoisting him onto his back like giving a child a piggy back ride. This, of course, immediately is a mistake. He kisses the back of Slade’s neck, right behind the ear, and lets out a low, sensual growl.

“Your neck is a lot prettier broken,” he purrs.

“Stop before I knock you out again,” Slade warns.

“Hypersexuality is- not a usual side effect but it should wear off,” Li assures.

“That's not a side effect, he's just like this,” Jason says.

“Ah,” Li replies. “Then you are on your own.”

“Thanks again, Mask,” Jason says and he offers his hand to Roman. They shake, briefly coming close to pat one another's back in a friendly, familiar farewell.

“Ain't a thang, baby,” Roman promises. “Stay safe with this Talon shit, ‘ight? Owlman’s a dangerous foe.” They know that all too well. Slade gives Roman a short nod which is returned politely and they take their leave. Staying in one place too long is far from a good idea now or ever.

Dick, fortunately, seems to be too out of it to continue to bother him at the moment. They stop in the lobby and Jason puts his jacket on Dick to at least slightly cover him. Being able to bend him nearly any direction without hurting him comes in handy.

“Li suggested we take him to Crane,” Slade informs. “Remove the tracker he undoubtedly has.”

“Alright,” Jason agrees and they move again. It's been a long night already but it's just starting. Slade watches Jason quietly for a moment, the perpensive look on his face. The walk from here is longer.

“What are you thinking?” Slade asks eventually. Dick's not unconscious but he's far from aware, like he's too high for his own good. It makes him easy to carry at least.

“That the only way out of this is by turning Dick against Bruce,” Jason says, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You make it sound easy,” Slade replies. “How exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“I don't know,” Jason admits. “He's- I don't even know what to call it. Loyal? Content?”

“Brainwashed,” Slade offers. Jason exhales tiredly.

“I'm sure Bruce has done something bad enough to make Dick turn on him but if he has, he's buried it deep,” he says. “It won't be easy but if we can do it-” he trails off, glancing at Dick with regret.

“You don't think he'd join you, do you?” Slade asks. “He's more likely to go rogue if not full on go after Owlman himself. Red, there really might not be a way to get your brother ‘back’ from this.” Jason doesn't say anything. They walk in silence for a while.

Slade isn't sure what Jason sees in Dick, why an adoptive brother he barely knew is so important to him, and as much as he wants to help, he can only see this going poorly. Dick is dangerous and not likely to change his ways just for Jason. Even if, by some miraculous means, he did join them, he'd still be a cold blooded killer with a sadistic streak. What are they supposed to do with a guy like that?

Crane’s place is as unappealing as ever.

Again, Jason knocks. The eye slit slides open suddenly and then closed just as fast as it takes him to recognise them.

“It's me, Scarecrow,” Jason calls, rolling his eyes. “Open up.”

“And  _Talon_ ,” Crane hisses back.

“He's sedated,” Slade assures. The eye slit opens again and Crane’s narrowed eyes peer out suspiciously. Slade turns to show him Dick, still dazed out on his back and unmoving. Even with a shake, he just sort of flops around limply. The slit closes. Slowly, the door opens and Crane cautiously looks around outside before practically yanking them in. He slams the door closed behind and locks all the locks. The frequency around this place should make it impossible to track Talon here. Hopefully.

“Sedated?” Crane repeats, curiously but cautiously moving to look at Dick. “With what?”

“Something Roman mixed up,” Jason says. Crane makes a face.

“You went to Black Mask and not me?” he scoffs. “I make the poisons. I  _fix_  the poisons.”

“I didn't want him poisoned,” Jason assures scathingly. Crane huffs again and his noise seems to alert Dick. Someone new is around and he's struggling to stay aware. He grins. “Can you scan him for a tracker?”

“Ooh, the doctor,” Dick purrs sluggishly. “Scaredy Crow.  _Boo_.” While not particularly loud, Dick's suddenly jolt in his direction makes Crane bolt away from them in a panicked flurry. He's such a skittish guy, it really doesn't take much. He tries to catch his breath as Dick chortles. Slade irritably jerks him to try to silence him.

“He can't hurt you, Scares,” Jason says. “Right now, at least.” What would unsettle a normal person, calms Crane enough to recollect himself. He eyes them from across the room, Dick especially.

“Tracker?” he repeats. “An Owlman tracker? In him or his gear?”

“Possibly both,” Jason replies. Crane considers it nervously but with distinct interest. “Will you or not?”

“Fine,” Crane says curtly. He's far too curious to refuse. Hurriedly, and careful to keep his distance, he moves some stuff off a chair and motions Slade to put Dick in it. Dick stretches out minutely as he's set down but he doesn't try to go anywhere and, more importantly, doesn't try to attack anyone. He yawns.

Jason touches Slade’s arm, a small bit of comfort very briefly, and nods his head down the hall.

“I'm gonna make a call,” he explains. Here would be the place to do it. Slade nods and Jason walks off, leaving him to help Crane with Dick this time. Joy. He kicks some stuff off a stool, piling stuff onto different piles of stuff, and plops down on it beside Dick. Obviously he's ‘adjusting’ well because Slade can see the awareness coming back to his eyes- even if it's not for very long at a time.

Crane hesitates as he wanders back over with his device. He looks at Dick laying limp suspicious, like he's playing possum, and inches a little closer. There's no point in rushing him, annoyed as Slade is, it'll just make him move slower. When he's finally close enough to begin scanning and Dick doesn't jump at him, Crane goes to work. He checks the chest first, of course, where embedded trackers usually wind up- harder to lose a torso than limbs.

“Doctor Crane,” Dick hums. “Are you afraid of me?”

“Ignore him,” Slade assures. Crane certainly tries but by the way his hands shake more than usual, it's not working.

“Want to not be?” Dick says in a low, suggestive tone. “What's wrong? You’re shaking, Doctor Crane. Nervous?”

“No,” Crane bites back before he can think better of it. Any response with Dick is a bad response, unfortunately for him. Dick grins.

“You're not nervous of Owlman, Doctor Crane?” Dick asks. Crane jolts. “He'll find me, you know, track my movements here and find out what you know. You know what would be fun? Doping you up on your own fear toxin and watching what little mind you've regained flutter into nothingness again. It would be so  _hot_ -”

Slade reaches to cover Dick's mouth with his hand. Consciously or otherwise, Crane lets out a relieved exhale and hurriedly quickens his work. The sedative is definitely working since under normal circumstances, Dick would be trying to bite a chunk out of him by now. Instead, he pushes his tongue into Slade’s palm, traces the creases with the tip. It keeps him silent and distracted while Crane works, though, so Slade bares through it.

“There's something in his knee,” Crane finally says.

_He broke my knee._

Knowing Owlman, he'd want to be the one to do the surgery to repair it, too. The perfect time to quietly implant a tracker. That suggests Dick doesn't know it's there which remains to be seen. It's entirely possible Dick is not only aware of its existence but had agreed to it. Slade is curious as to why Owlman hasn't hunted them down yet. Turning Dick's gear off should have been a red alarm.

Slade wants to hope that Dick really does care for Jason in some twisted way, that he figured out how to turn off his tracker so Owlman couldn't follow him to Jason's location before he was ready. In reality, he knows it's more likely Jason honed in on Dick's bad knee and went for it. A good, solid strike from one of Dick's own electrified escrima sticks would be enough to interrupt the tracking device if not completely fry it.

“Can you take it out?” Slade asks.

“It's his knee,” Crane answers mildly. “Child's play.”

“Do it,” he instructs. Crane adjusts awkwardly, however. If he has any reservations or fears, he doesn't mention them.

“I'll get some anaesthesia,” he assures.

“Don't bother,” Slade says shortly. “He's being sedated with a very complex drug, we can't just give him something else and hope they play nice. I doubt he can feel much right now anyways and even if he could, the pain wouldn't bother him. Just restrain his leg.” Again, if Crane is unsure, he doesn't voice it.

Slade takes his hand away from Dick's mouth slowly, making sure Dick isn't going to spout off again, but he seems to have lapsed back into a distant unawareness for the moment. It makes it easy to strap his leg down, just in case he does get movement in his limbs too soon, and adjust him so Crane can get to work. As shaky as his hands are, one wouldn't assume Crane was capable of  _writing_  much less surgery.

Because he's really not.

Still, in a pinch like this, as long as they don't make him too nervous, he has it under control. Dick watches quietly as Crane rolls up his legging, cleans his knee and pulls his equipment closer. Slade makes sure to hold Dick’s leg still in addition to the restraints, not wanting him to jerk out of place and cause himself injury- or startle Crane.

Crane hesitates once he has the scalpel in hand.

“This won't hurt him?” he confirms.

“Do you really care if you hurt Talon?” Slade asks mildly. Crane is visibly conflicted by the question. He really doesn't want to hurt anyone but at the same time, it is Talon, a man who was  _minutes_  ago talking about getting off on him suffering. Slade exhales irritably. “He’ll be fine, Scarecrow.”

It will  _hurt_ , Dick just won't mind.

Crane takes too long to begin and by the time he starts cutting into Dick's knee, Dick has come back around to awareness. Slade knows this because he screams like he's dying. Urgently, Crane yanks away, fumbling his scalpel and panicking to find something to stop the blood. Slade has to grab him to stop him from flinging himself to the floor in his wild movements.

“ _Shut up_ , Talon!” Slade snarls. “He's  _faking_  it, Scarecrow.  _Continue_.” Crane looks alarmed, a look that only increases tenfold when Dick begins to laugh instead.

“You're no fun, Wilson,” he complains in amusement. Slade physically grabs Crane’s wrist to drag him back to work. Perhaps no longer sure if he should be afraid of Talon or Slade, he quickly does.

“And you're a pain in my ass,” Slade replies shortly.

“It always surprises me that someone like you fathered someone like Jericho,” Dick says. He always knows where to press. Knowing he's doing it to get a rise out of Slade doesn't make it any less annoying- or painful. “Want to know something?”

“No,” Slade says. At least he has Dick's attention while Crane works.

“Jericho  _screamed_  for me,” Dick purrs anyways. He changed his mind, he doesn't want Dick's attention. “I broke his arm while I  _fucked_  him and he  _screamed_  my name in  _bliss_. He said it was one of the best orgasms he's ever had, even better than when he touches himself to  _you_.”

Slade grabs Dick's knee, digging his fingers into the open flesh Crane works on and making Dick's face scrunch in pain. He rasps out a strangled noise, almost lost under Crane’s panicked one.

“Keep my children’s names out of your mouth,  _Talon_ ,” Slade warns. Dick lies, a lot, and it's hard to tell what is and isn't true. Joseph is nonverbal but- Slade doesn't want to even entertain any ideas Dick is trying to plant. He digs his fingers in harder, feeling the hot blood cling to his fingers. “Do you understand?”

And Dick moans.

“Oh, Mr. Slade,  _more_.”

Slade jerks back as Dick laughs, a breathlessness to his voice that says he really did enjoy that.

“What's wrong?” Dick groans. “I was having  _fun_.”

“I found it,” Crane alerts as he holds up a small, blood covered object between some tweezers. Slade exhales low and slow, assuring he can keep his composure without doing something he'll regret. Dick grinning at him doesn't help.

“Sew him up,” Slade instructs.

“Well, staples are better for knees,” Crane says.

“Just do it,” Slade answers roughly. “I'm going for a smoke.”

“You're leaving me with Talon?” Crane asks hastily, looking for somewhere to drop the tracker.

“Cover your ears,” Slade scoffs as he storms off.

He heads outside, finding Jason already standing against the wall, half through a cigarette of his own. Standing out in the open probably isn't the best idea at the moment but Crane’s lab is hard to breathe in for long. Slade crowds over him immediately, pushing his hand against the wall under Jason's arm and leaning in to kiss him roughly. Jason meets him, arching off the wall into it. He exhales shakily when they part.

“He still alive?” Jason asks. Slade kisses him again and Jason pushes him off a little. “ _Slade_.”

“If you were honestly concerned, you would have come running when he screamed,” Slade says. “He's fine. Unfortunately. They both are.”

“Good,” Jason murmurs. He offers Slade the rest of his cigarette and Slade takes it, inhaling deeply but not doing much for changing his position. Even if it's brief and shallow, this little intimacy is nice. “He's not always this bad, ya know. He's just tryin’ to piss you off.”

“It's working,” Slade replies between his teeth. Jason glances at the blood staining his fingers. “What did you find?”

“Not a lot,” Jason admits. They both pause momentarily as Crane yelps but when nothing further sounds, they continue. “Roy made a good point, though. We don't gotta turn him on Bruce, we just need a little leverage.”

“Like what?” Slade asks. He doesn't like Roy so it goes without saying, he doesn't like Roy's ideas but they might not have a choice soon. There's not enough time to ‘convince’ Dick to turn on his father.

“If we can do something ‘nice’ for Dick, believe it or not, he will remember it,” Jason assures but doesn't specify what he's thinking. Slade gives him a bland look. “As much as it seems otherwise, Dick can and does think for himself.”

He did kill the Joker very against Owlman’s want.

“What are you thinking, Red?” Slade asks, a little more firmly. It sounds like Jason knows whatever it is, Slade won't like.

“Want to catch another bird?” he asks. Slade exhales smoke slowly, closing his eyes as he pushes off the wall to stand beside Jason instead. “Drake knows more about Dick than a person reasonably should. He knows how to get on Dick's good side.” If it wasn't bad enough they're literally holding Talon hostage and drawing Owlmen’s attention, now they're going after Red Bird? Slade knows Jason has a death wish but this seems like a little much.

“Why do you think he'll help you?” he asks mildly.

“Drake can be reasoned with,” Jason says. Slade gives him an unconvinced look. “Especially if Dick is involved.” ‘Involved’, ‘held hostage’, same thing. Revealing that they have Dick is a big risk to them. They don't want Owlman  _and_  Red Bird coming for their necks.

“It's too quiet in there,” Slade comments, flicking his cigarette at the ground. Jason nods a mild agreement and they head back inside.

“I'm sorry I'm so mean to you, Crane,” Dick says softly. Oh good, they're just in time. Crane flinches uncomfortably, doing his best to wrap Dick's knee quicker. “You just- give me these feelings I don't understand. You're so smart and-”

“Talon,” Slade sneers, trying to stop him.

“I'd love to feel your neck  _snap_  under my fingers,” Dick groans. Crane hurriedly moves away from him, whether he's done or not. Slade moves to finish his bandages and pull his legging back down. Dick grins at him the whole time.

“H- here,” Crane says, handing Jason the newly cleaned tracker he's found. Jason examines it thoroughly.

“Thanks, Scares,” he murmurs. “And don't mind him. He's mad he can't do anything right now.” Crane looks at Dick nervously and Dick smiles back at him. “This still works. The zap must’a fritzed the signal.”

“We should go,” Slade says, grabbing Dick's arm and pulling him to his feet. He can stand on his own now thankful and walk with minimum help- even if he limps now. They'll have to double check his knee later. “No point in giving Crane anymore of a heart attack.”

“Owlman-” Crane murmurs, hesitates as he looks at Dick again. “He won't- No one knows you were here, right?”

“I'll make sure Owlman doesn't come here,” Jason promises. Crane sighs in relief.

“You better not leave,” Dick hums contently.

“Do you ever shut up?” Jason asks irritably.

Crane lets out a stressed noise.

They head for a safe house. Dick walks more or less quietly, the sedative still causing him to zone in and out at random intervals, and by the time they get there, he can walk without having to lean on Slade at all even with his limp. He still needs guiding so he doesn't wander off in a random direction when he disassociates but they aren't keen on taking their eyes off of him anyways.

Even if they're letting Talon into one of their safe houses, which inherently makes it not safe, Slade is glad to be out of the open. He pushes Dick onto the couch where Dick stretches himself out leisurely and begins to fiddle with the jacket he's wearing. Hopefully Jason didn't leave anything in the pockets.

“Want to go get us some food?” Jason asks. If it means some time away from Dick, absolutely. “I'm going to make some adjustments to this.” He holds up the tracker. Slade looks at Dick. “Trust me, he bothers me a lot less than you.”

“I'll be back,” Slade assures.

Not wanting to stray far, Slade stops by the closest building to get enough food for the three of them. As much as he'd happily leave Dick to starve for the night, Jason probably wouldn't be happy with him. By the time he returns, nothing drastic seems to have happened. Truly a feat.

They sit around and eat. Dick, fortunately, capable of feeding himself and doing it quietly. It's been a long night.

“It's gonna be awhile before we can give Dick the sleep ‘aid’,” Jason says. “Think you can stay awake with him while I go lure Drake out?” Slade doesn't like the sound of any of that, honestly.

“By yourself?” he asks mildly. Jason gives him a pandering look.

“Relax. It's not like the results are gonna be immediate,” he scoffs back. That, somehow, makes it even worse. Slade looks at Dick again, watching him stretch his leg up behind his head in a blissful, disorientated daze. With nothing going on, he seems to easily get lost in the sedative.

“Fine,” Slade says curtly. “Make it quick. And stay safe.”

“Don't I always,” Jason assures.

“No,” Slade says. Jason gives him a look but doesn't say anything. Instead, he approaches Dick and gets his loose attention. He pulls something from his pocket, a candy sucker, and unwraps it.

“Open,” he instructs and Dick, with far too much enthusiasm, does. Jason pops the candy in his mouth and Dick hums contently. As he returns to Slade’s side, he hands him a few more. “Just don't let him choke on them, ‘ight? That should keep him quiet.”

Should.

“That would be a tragedy,” Slade assures. Jason smiles a little. He hesitates, considering briefly a kiss, before clearly deciding against it and taking his leave. Slade turns back to Dick, for the moment content and quiet on the couch. Hopefully he stays that way.

Slade washes himself in the sink, getting the blood from under his nails and the sickly feeling off of his neck. He knew they'd have to deal with Owlman eventually and by extension, Talon, but this really cropped up without warning. They weren't prepared in the least. They thought they had hid Jason better than this. They'll have to be more careful in the future.

If Jason, by some miraculous means, is right, though, and they can get Talon to even sort of align with them, to turn his back on Owlman at the very least, they'll have a very potent ally. Slade isn't going to get his hopes up, but having Talon on a similar side, and by extension Red Bird and Nightwing, is probably the only way to ensure they even have a chance against Owlman.

Slade picks up yesterday's paper and settles himself in the matching chair where he can keep an eye, and ear, on Dick. He's tired but the back to back dirt naps Dick helped him with, short as they were, rested him a little.

Dick's ‘good’ behavior can only last so long.

When he starts to move around again, Slade lowers his paper briefly to see what he's doing. He shrugs out of Jason's jacket with some irritation, likely growing too hot between that and his costume, and flings it away from himself. Dick huffs, coasts his hands through his hair like he's stressed, and rolls the sucker around his mouth, audibly clicking it against his teeth. Slade brings his paper back up as Dick gets to his feet. He limps to the little kitchenette and likewise, seems to wash his face.

Slade hears him try to open a draw, find it locked, then promptly give up. It's obvious he still has though violent thoughts but the sedative removes his willpower to actually see any of them through. Sionis is a terrifying man when he wants to be.

Dick approaches the back of his chair and Slade glances back at him just enough to make sure he actually is unarmed. As much as Sionis’ sedation seems to be working, and well, there's no reason to needlessly test it- especially when Dick is such a good actor. If the sedation does fail, it's entirely possible they won't know about it until it's too late. Dick puts his hands on Slade’s shoulders.

There's obviously harm in giving him things to actively pay attention to, like Crane so much as twitching too hard, so Slade pays him no mind even as the hands slide further down his chest and Dick leans against him. He reaches up, very intentionally past Slade's blind eye, and takes the sucker from his mouth with a soft ‘pop’.

“You know what else would keep me quiet?” he says suggestively, a low throaty noise in Slade's ear. Dick pops the candy back in his mouth and leans over Slade's shoulder as he reaches for his belt. Slade ignores this about as long as he can but in this case, not being entertaining clearly isn't a deterrent.

“No,” Slade says, grabbing one of Dick's wrist. Dick crunches down on the sucker suddenly, making Slade wince. All other obvious reasons aside, no, he'd actually love to not be bitten anywhere near his cunt. He physically moves Dick's hand away from his genitals and Dick moves to wrap his arms around his throat instead. The flex of his arms assures that he definitely  _wants_  to break Slade's neck again but he can't manage it at the moment.

“You and my brother are dating,” Dick comments, using his tongue to twirl the remaining stick around his mouth. It's not that surprising that Dick honed in on that quick if not immediately. “I am the older brother. Don't you want to see what you're missing?”

“No,” Slade answers again blandly. He brings his newspaper back up again.

“He learned everything from me, you know,” Dick purrs. Slade doesn't say anything. “I showed him how to kiss. How to act like a virgin. How to manipulate old men around his finger.”

The problem with Dick is, there's truth in the things he says. Even if it's just a little, it's there, and it's almost impossible to distinguish it from the lies. It's not so much a matter of ‘if he's telling the truth about this, what else is he’ but rather ‘where is the truth’. Dealing with his short temper, his aptitude for violence, his strong sexual presence, is all already annoying enough on its own. Trying to navigate his thinly veiled mind games isn't a bonus.

“We'd practice kissing for  _hours_ ,” Dick groans in his ear. They're trying to turn Dick on Owlman and Dick is trying to turn them on each other. It's obvious he knows he can't get under Jason's skin easily. No, he wants to push Slade into snapping- at him or at Jason, whichever gets results.

Again, knowing that's what he's trying to do doesn't make Slade any less affected by it.

“Ask him yourself,” Dick says lowly. And therein lays the problem. Jason lies. Dick knows Jason lies and he knows Slade knows it. It's not even always that Jason  _wants_  to lie but being trained and raised by Owlman, sometimes that's just his first instinct. He'll do it over anything, usually for no discernable reason, and even when he  _knows_  Slade knows the truth. He can't help it. Sometimes he doesn't even realise it.

Slade can't always distinguish the truth in the things Jason says, either.

He's not sure why he allows it. It's annoying to think he's let Dick get under his skin already. Maybe he just wants to know- hard proof that Dick is lying. When Dick kisses him, Slade doesn't stop him. He doesn't reciprocate either, sitting still as Dick pushes his tongue between his lips and traces the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth. As much as biting is still definitely a possibility, Dick doesn't even seem to consider it. He caresses Slade's tongue with his own as he draws back slowly.

“You want to hear Jay  _worship_  your name like a  _god_  while you fuck him?” Dick asks. Slade doesn't say anything but it wouldn't matter even if he did. “Get him on his stomach, twist his arm behind his back, and  _push_.”

Slade hates Jason's brother.

Dick fishes another sucker out of Slade's pocket then he's slinking away back to the couch again. He stays there peacefully, as if he's been behaving all night, and Slade goes back to his paper. He's achieved what he wanted, after all, he's gotten under Slade's skin; sowed seeds of uncertainty and more dangerously, curiosity.

Jason returns eventually. He checks his watch as he strays back into the safe house and Dick hums a pleased, welcoming noise at him.

“Good, I made better time than I thought,” Jason notes. “Come here, Dick. If you sleep in that you will sweat to death.” Slade doesn't say anything as Jason pulls out a spare sets of clothes, far to big for Dick in any capacity, and then promptly has to help him out of his Talon uniform. Dick can dress himself at least and does seem way more comfortable now. They wouldn't want him to be uncomfortable, would they.

They cut it close to the ten minute mark. The near feral, sharp look to Dick's eyes like he's ready to lash out when Jason administers the second sedative is telling. Clearly the sedative wears off fast. They'll have to be careful. Once Dick is actually asleep, Jason handcuffs him to the bar beneath the couch screwed into the floor. Just in case.

Jason exhales in relief and Slade sighs.

“How much did you give him?” Slade asks.

“Six,” Jason replies then snorts an amused sound. “More than he's ever gotten on his own naturally.”

“Good,” Slade says. Six hours of peace he can work with. Jason comes to him immediately and Slade tosses his paper aside without a second thought, pulling Jason into his lap and wrapping his arms around his waist. Jason kisses him thoroughly, making up for the poor excuse of a kiss earlier. His brother being around makes him nervous. He doesn't want to let anyone know they're close because he doesn't want it to be used against him.

Jason pushes his tongue between his lips and traces the roof of his mouth, the ridges of his teeth. He caresses Slade's tongue with his own as he draws back slowly.

“Slade?” Jason says softly when Slade doesn't actively reciprocate. Slade looks at him a moment before pulling him back in for another kiss. He kisses back this time but Jason still pulls back. The look he gives Slade is questioning and he runs his tongue over his own mouth briefly.

“Did you eat one of those suckers?” he asks.

“Dick kissed me,” Slade says mildly.

“Jesus  _christ_ ,” Jason says in irritation. “I'm so sorry, Slade. It's probably the sedative. He's not  _actually_  a sexual predator, he was probably trying to break your neck again.”

“It's fine,” Slade assures. “He was trying to make me use violence on him so the sedative wouldn't function.” Jason lets out a stressed noise. “Talon is cruel and cunning and doesn't play fair. We knew this.”

“I know,” Jason says. “He was bad when we were kids but not this bad.”

“Things change,” Slade replies. He takes Jason’s jaw in his hand and kisses him again. “We'll figure something out.” Jason nods and, fortunately, seems to relax a little. He wraps his arms around Slade's neck and pulls them close. Slade grabs his ass in both hands and Jason groans appreciatively. After such a long, stressful day, being able to relax with one another is obviously welcomed for both of them.

It doesn't take much heavy, hot kissing to get Jason hard, his cock impolitely prodding Slade’s stomach. Slade pulls him forward more to encourage him to rut against him. Jason lets him go to hastily reach for the collar of this protective spandex undershirt. He pulls it off over his head and Slade follows the curve of his side with his hand. There's fresh bruises all over him from his fight with Dick, darkening to purple colours already and obviously still sensitive to the touch.

Slade pops the button on his pants with the other hand and pushes both his spandex legging and briefs down under his cock. Even without much stimulation, Jason’s already dripping copious precum. Stress wears him out quickly which, in turn, always seems to make him more sensitive. He groans appreciatively as Slade strokes the precum down his cock in slow, steady movements. Jason leans in to kiss him again and Slade's eye flickers to Dick briefly, making sure he's actually asleep.

He tries not to think about the things Dick has said.

With his free hand, Slade pushes Jason's briefs down his hips and to his knees. Jason buries his face in Slade's shoulder, hips twitching as he very prominently breathes in Slade's scent. Slade moves them, standing as he pushes Jason face first into the chair and making him brace himself against it to keep his balance. He pulls his pants and briefs off with a couple yanks, jerking and twisting Jason around as he needs.

“I don't,” Jason murmurs and he glances over his shoulder minutely. Slade arches a brow at him, makes him shudder as he runs his hand up one of his strong thighs and squeezes his ass. “While you're dead, I mean. I don't- wouldn't- anything like that.”

Dick has obviously gotten under his skin more than a little, too.

“Didn't think that you did, kid,” Slade replies. He knows Jason too well for that. Jason nods rather curtly. It's more annoying to know he's thinking about his brother even now. Slade knows how to fix that. He digs the lube from the table drawer, particularly glad Dick hadn't been nosing around in the right places earlier, and pours more than a fair amount between Jason’s toned cheeks, holding them open with his thumb. Jason's knees twitch with anticipation.

More annoying, however, is how Slade keeps thinking about Dick right now.

He's barely a few feet away but still.

Slade thrusts a pair of slick fingers into Jason sudden and pulls a louder, more raspy groan from him. He slides his hand down to grip Jason's thigh firmly in his hand and Jason arches his back, pushing back into him for more.

“Slade,” he moans approvingly. Slade crooks his fingers against his sweet spot. “Oh,  _fuck_.”

_You want to hear Jay_ worship _your name..?_

He shouldn't. It's  _Talon_. He's actively trying to pit them against each other as they are trying to pry him out of Owlman’s grip. It's far more likely that the ‘hint’ is malicious than it is anything else.

But Jason kisses like Dick does.

Slade grabs Jason's arm and twists it behind his back. Jason lets out a low, gravely whine of a noise as he's forced to put more of his weight on the recliner, barely able to keep his balance now. When Slade works his fingers harder and deeper, he doesn't even try. He chants a steady stream of, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” nearly inaudible under his groans. Slade pushes, feels Jason's shoulder pinch as it's twisted against the socket, and Jason throws his head down.

“ _Fuck_ , Slade,” he moans vocally. “ _Slade_ , Slade, fuck, yes.”

Talon lies. Slade wishes he'd do it more often.

Jason rhythmically chants his name as he comes, a lot harder and a lot sooner than he usually does from fingers alone. Slade doesn't know what to do with the information he has, how to feel about it, or even what it actually means. He only lets Jason's arm go when he's quietly panting and mostly slack again. With an effortless tug, he turns Jason back around and pushes him into the chair.

Slade grabs one of Jason's legs firmly, yanking him further down in the recliner so Slade can straddle his strong thigh more easily. He grinds his hot, dripping cunt against Jason's thigh through his jeans and Jason presses his leg up against him obediently. When he reaches for Slade's waist, Slade grabs both his wrists in one hand and twists them up above his head, leaving Jason to do little more than watch longingly as Slade finishes himself on his thigh.

He knows what Jason likes; he knows what Jason  _doesn't_  like. He knows Jason lies.

They shower together, too tired to bother talking. With everything that happened today, Slade doesn't even want to begin thinking about where to start tonight. Jason eats him out long enough for him to inevitably fall asleep and Slade wakes him up long enough to pull him into bed.

Tomorrow's going to be an even longer day. 


	2. Red Bird

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this chapter meaner than the last? yes. 
> 
> additional talon dialogue warnings include: even more incest and underage implications. there's also explicit torture (of slade) in this so fair warning
> 
> this got long so one more chapter after this

To no one's surprise and everyone's fortune, dealing with Dick is a lot easier when he's unconscious.

Since Slade isn't going to let Jason meet with Red Bird, and potentially Owlman, without backup and since they can't leave Dick to his own devices even under sedation and since Red Bird will lose his entire mind if he finds out they have Dick before they're ready, they've simply elected to put him down for a nap. It kind of makes Slade wish they had gone for a full dose and called it a day. He's so much more bearable when he's sleeping.

Slade, unsurprisingly, keeps an eye on Dick while Jason moves to meet their next dangerous, volatile friend. Poised up high, he has full view of the area through his scope and a proper vantage point in case this gets out of hand. As much as Jason isn't nearly as close with his ‘replacement’, he still isn't interested in having to hurt him. Slade supposes he isn't either but the owl kids have always freaked him out a little and having Dick around isn't exactly rubbing him the right way.

Which is why he's handcuffed the unconscious Talon to an exposed support beam just in case- well away from him. The last thing he needs is for the sedative to suddenly wear off and Dick to come at him while he's focused on sniping.

“I have eyes on him,” Slade alerts. He can see where Jason hangs out quietly, waiting patiently to find out if he'll need to flee for it first. Red Bird moves in on his position quickly but he looks to be alone and more importantly, doesn't actually seem to be aware that Jason is there. “Coming in hot.”

Jason doesn't move immediately once Red Bird is in his proximity and sure enough, Red Bird isn't there for him. Instead, he curiously pokes and prods around the area like he's looking for something. The ‘trap’ Jason set was really less of a trap and more of a wild goose chase.

Using Dick’s tracker, he pinged locations all over Gotham- and more specifically, in Red Bird’s unofficial district. Sure enough, Owlman came looking and ultimately, found nothing. For him to so obviously be looking for something, however, piqued Red Bird’s curiosity and now here he is, following in Owlman’s steps to see if he can determine what he'd been looking for.

Jason is a beautiful, resourceful son of a bitch sometimes.

“Definitely alone,” Slade assures. Jason steps out of his hiding spot and Red Bird spots him immediately. They stare each other down for a moment.

“Lookin’ for this?” Jason offers, holding up Dick’s tracker. Red Bird’s mask hides his expression. “I'll answer that for you, actually: yes, you are.”

“Where is Talon, Hood?” Red Bird demands curtly.

“Not with Owlman, I'll tell you that,” Jason says. Red Bird pulls his staff, extending it to its full length and setting his stance. Jason pockets the tracker again. “Easy there, butcher bird, he's not in any danger. The opposite, in fact.”

“Where,” Red Bird demands again.

“Owlman sent him after me,” Jason explains as he nonchalantly pulls one of Talon’s escrima sticks from behind his back and tosses it in his hand. “That didn't work out for him.”

“What did you do to him?” Red Bird snaps, growing more impatient and more unstable by the second.

“The question isn't what _I've_ done to him,” Jason says. “The question is; what will Owlman do to him?” Red Bird hesitates. “See? If I let him go, he's goin’ to go crawlin’ back to Owlman a failure and then what? Get his other knee broken? Worse?”

“Not if he takes you back,” he replies.

“With what? Your help?” Jason snorts. “Little late for that, anyways. Owlman knows he's been captured.”

“You lured me here for a reason,” Red Bird says. “What is it?”

“I can't keep Talon hostage forever. I need to stop him from goin’ back to Owlman,” Jason assures. “And I think _you_ know how to do that.”

“You can't,” Red Bird replies curtly and while he's still on guard, he seems to be coming around to some kind of sense. “Talon is extremely loyal to Owlman. He'd rather take the abuse than be shunned.”

“You've stalked Talon for years,” Jason insists. Red Bird seems a little taken aback by being confronted with that knowledge. “You're telling me you don't know anythin’ that would turn him on the old man?” Another lapse of hesitation. Jason is drawing attention to his identity and fast. Red Bird is a ‘detective’, if he hasn't figured it out already, he's going to soon.

“What do I get out of it?” he asks, tipping his head back minutely but distinctly interested.

“You want Talon out of Owlman’s grip as much as I do,” Jason assures. “What you ‘get’ is your chance to make it happen.” He throws the tracker at Red Bird and it's caught easily. “Or you can call Owlman here and grovel your way back into his good grace by handing him me _and_ Talon back.”

Red Bird looks at the tracker then around the alley. If he's searching for some kind of trap, he doesn't find one. There isn't one. There's only Slade ready to tranq him to hell and back the second he goes on the aggressive. Red Bird tosses the tracker back.

“I want to see him,” he says. “Before I ‘help’, I want to make sure he's alright.”

“I ain't got nothin’ to hide,” Jason assures. “He's takin’ a snooze at my place.” Slade glances back at Dick, fortunately still unconscious but definitely not at Jason's ‘place’. He takes this as a cue to get Dick back to their throwaway safe house. It's not ideal to have to take his eyes off Jason and Red Bird but he also knows Jason can handle himself just fine.

Slade shoulders his rifle as he moves away from the window. He uncuffs Dick from the beam and throws him over the other shoulder.

“Heading out,” he alerts. “You're on your own kid.” While he can still hear the conversation between them, they don't actually have any. Until Red Bird knows Dick is safe and until Jason knows that this isn't the worst plan in the world, they don't have a lot to say to each other.

And this is the worst idea. Talon is more likely to turn on Red Bird and if they're not careful, Red Bird will, unwittingly or otherwise, end up helping him escape.

Slade has to stop to give Dick the other injection before continuing on.

As much as the sedative is working, it's only working on Dick. Slade handcuffs, and zipties, Dick's arms behind him back to assure he can't get them out in front of him and then securely chains him to the bracer bar. If Red Bird is going to try to make an escape with him, Slade isn't going to make it easy for him.

Dick is waking back up just as he's finishing up and shortly after, he hears Jason entering the safe house. Perfect timing. Slade places his rifle behind the hidden panel where it belongs; it's too big to be any use to him in a close fight with Red Bird. There's no guarantee Red Bird isn't going to see Talon and go absolutely ape shit. Which they've planned for but that doesn't make it any less of an issue.

“Talon,” Red Bird says urgently and he rushes to Dick's side the second he makes eye contact. Dick blinks his eyes open blearily as Red Bird lingers over him. He smiles. Slade gives Jason a mild look. Red Bird looks his face and neck, examining him for any damage. Like Jason, he's a little bruised from their fight and there's injection marks on his neck and arm but otherwise, _they_ haven't hurt him.

“Hey there, pretty bird,” Dick hums. “Finally come to help me?” Red Bird lifts his shirt, looking over his bruised and battered chest. Talon has always had a lot of scars but if Red Bird is looking for something specifically, Slade couldn't say what it is.

“Yeah,” Tim says. “Yeah, I have.”

“Watch the hands,” Jason warns off handedly. Tim flattens Dick's shirt out again. He stands, looks at Slade a long time, then back to Jason. Whatever he found, it seems to have rooted his decision to work with them.

“Give me some time,” Tim says. “I was looking into something back at the manor when Nightwing chased me out. I assume it was something Owlman _really_ didn't want my nose in.” Dick laughs.

“You're helping Red Hood?” he asks. “Oh, pretty bird, you know you're making a mistake. Did I do something wrong?” Jason is right about one thing, Tim's obsession with Dick is a driving force in the decisions he makes. As much as they can use that to their advantage, it can also very suddenly be a disadvantage- one that could end far worse than the situation they've already gotten themselves into.

“ _Red Bird_ ,” Dick says a little more harshly when Tim doesn't immediately acknowledge him. “Please, I just want to go home. I miss dad. I miss NW. _Please_ , they're hurting me.”

“What are you giving him?” Tim asks.

“A sedative,” Jason replies vaguely. “And a sleep agent when he needs to sleep. He's an escape artist, it's the only way to make sure he doesn't. It's been workin’ so far.” Tim nods.

“You're picking Deathstroke over me?” Dick asks and he lets out a little forced laugh. “You're picking _Jason_ over me?” His hood might hide his face but Slade can practically hear Jason flinch.

“Where's his gear?” Tim goes on. “Keeping him prisoner isn't going to cut it. If you don't keep Owlman distracted, he'll find Talon anyways.”

“Dad was right about you,” Dick says, changing his desperation in for a sharper, more mischievous tone. Tim looks like he's withholding a full body reaction to the comment. His jaw firms. “You're just a little disloyal traitor.”

“What are you thinkin’? One of us run around in Talon’s gear to throw him off?” Jason asks, doing his best to distract. Tim clenches his fingers and by his lack of response, he's having a much harder time ignoring Dick now.

“I'm the one that stood up for you, Tim,” Dick reminds him. “ _I'm_ the one that took you in. Owlman would have _killed_ you if it weren't for me and this is how you repay me? I thought you loved me?”

“Shut up, Talon,” Slade warns. Jason holds a hand out to stop him a little too late. Tim has his staff pointed at Slade's face in a second.

“Don't talk to him like that,” he snaps, his eyes wild, volatile fires. It's going to be a lot easier for Dick to turn Tim on them than it will be to turn them on each other.

“Easy, butcherbird,” Jason says, pushing the staff away carefully. “Talon is just trying to manipulate you. He'll say anything to pit you against us. Without us, he goes back to Owlman and we're back to square one.” The stare Tim gives Slade is nothing short of murderous but he lowers his staff all the same.

“Owlman,” he says, bringing the topic back to hand. “None of us have Talon’s physique so wearing his costume isn't exactly going to be convincing.”

“ _Tim_ ,” Dick groans, a heated noise on his mouth as he audibly pulls against his bindings.

“We should plant it on someone,” Tim suggests.

“We could have been together,” Dick urges. “You could have proved yourself to Owlman.”

“If Owlman thinks someone else has him, he'll waste time tearing them apart,” Tim explains. “Talon’s his favorite, always has been, and you've set him on edge already. He'll act before he thinks.”

“But whoever we plant it on-” Jason says, drifting off.

“They're as good as dead,” Slade finishes. “Whoever we plant that on, we're hand delivering a death sentence to.”

“Scarecrow,” Tim begins.

“No,” Jason cuts him off curtly. Tim stares at him a moment.

“Two Face-” he continues.

“ _No_ ,” Jason says, a little more firmly. Tim is unimpressed. “We should plant it on one of Owlman’s allies. It might slow him down.”

“It won't,” Tim assures blandly. “The opposite, in fact. Not only will Owlman already know how to kill them, but they won't expect it. You'll be wasting our time and our only chance to distract him.” Regrettably, Tim is right. The question then is; who are they going to betray.

“No,” Jason repeats a third time, shaking his head. “I'm not _sicking_ Owlman on someone as a distraction. We'll figure something else out.”

“Poor little wing doesn't understand Gotham would be _better_ without some of his little so called ‘friends’,” Dick comments. “You really never were cut out to be mentored by Owlman.”

“We won't get another chance at this,” Tim says. “Pick _someone_.”

“He said no,” Slade reiterates more forcibly. Tim isn't exactly unbiased in this situation, after all. There's more than a few of Jason's ‘friends’ he'd love to see dead, too. “Do what Red asked you to do, nothing else. We'll deal with Owlman.” Tim gives him the dirtiest look imaginable. Oh, they're going to be great friends.

“If you could ‘deal’ with Owlman, you wouldn't be in this mess,” Dick hums.

“I can give Owlman the run around with the tracker,” Jason says. “How much time do you need?”

“I don't actually know what I'm looking for so I couldn't tell you,” Tim replies unhelpfully. “If you won't take this opportunity, I will.”

“No, you won't,” Jason bites. So much for listening to reason. This was a bad idea from the go get. Worse still, it's too late to take it back. Tim knows they have Talon. It's hard to tell if Owlman knows Red Hood is Jason and furthermore, if he knows Slade is working with Red Hood, but Tim knows that, too. They can't cut him out of the equation without him going straight to Owlman with all the information he has.

They can't keep all of Jason's siblings prisoner.

“What do you think, Mr. Wilson?” Dick purrs. Jason and Tim both look at Slade. “What do you think will happen when Owlman catches up to you? What's he going to do to you? What's he going to do to _Jason_? Isn't saving him from that fate a little more important than one Gotham lowlife?”

“We're not gonna tell you again to shut up, Dick,” Jason snaps, the anger swelling in his voice.

“Don't talk to him like that!” Tim snarls at once.

“I'll talk to my brother however I damn well please, you little stalker!” Jason answers. Suddenly they're on each other's toes, Tim craning his head back to look up as Jason and in equal amounts, Jason craning his head down to look at Tim. Behind them, Dick grins at Slade.

“Enough,” Slade says harshly. “I know what you're trying to do. Red Bird, get to work. The sooner you do, the sooner you're done. We'll discuss what we'll do if Owlman finds us when Talon isn't awake to offer his ‘opinions’ on the matter. For now, Hood can distract him.”

Tim and Jason continue to glare at one another for a long time. Ultimately, Jason moves away first, leaving Tim to huff out an annoyed noise and jerk himself away, too. While Tim sits beside Dick to start working, Jason gives him a long look before walking towards Slade. He grabs his arm roughly and pulls them together to speak to him in hushed tones.

“Watch Drake,” he warns quietly. Slade didn't have any plans on taking his eyes off Tim but he supposes he's inadvertently put himself in a situation where he has to watch two of Owlman’s sons. Not his best idea. “Dick may not actually be a predator but- I don't know about Drake, _especially_ around Dick.”

“Comforting,” Slade replies dryly. He yanks his arm out of Jason's grip, more for show than anything else. Even drugged, Dick picks up on every little thing.

“I'll be back,” Jason says, giving Tim another long look. Slade hates to have the thought now of all times but watching two of Owlman’s children is less than watching three. Jason leaves irritated.

From the go get, why Jason would ever help or partner with him had been up in the air. While Slade is long past wondering if he's working for someone else or playing some kind of ‘long game’, Jason is still Owlman’s son. He can't help but wonder if Jason _would_ go back to him if he thought, for even a second, that Owlman would be different. That's not something Jason would ever believe, he's not an idiot, but the idea remains.

Jason would pick him over Owlman, would Jason pick him over Talon? More importantly, how many times can Slade keep asking him to?

If they do successfully convince Talon to stop _worshipping_ Owlman, where does that leave their relationship?

As much as Jason warned him to watch Tim, Dick continues to be the instigator. Tim is about as good as Jason is at ignoring it, of course, but that doesn't negate the fact that he seems to be intentionally subjecting himself to it. He sits close enough for Dick to rest his head in Tim’s lap or lean against his shoulder or bite at his utility belt- another violent action the sedative is fortunately subduing. Slade keeps his distance for everyone's sake.

“Talon, I'm working,” Tim says mildly when Dick lays his head on his shoulder again.

“What are you working on?” Dick asks, making no effort to hide how bored he is. Tim's eyes flicker to Slade. “You won't find anything, pretty bird. Owlman is everything to me, why are you trying so hard to take that away? You're not still mad about Nightwing, are you?” This isn't good. For all he knows, Tim could have called Owlman here the second he realised where Dick was. Tim casts his eyes down as Dick moves to nuzzle his neck, lips brushing his skin as he talks.

“Don't be mad, pretty bird, it was just time to fly on your own. Dad didn't mean to hurt your feelings. Surely you _like_ being out on your own?” Dick encourages. “Or maybe not. Would you like it better if it was ‘Red Bird and Talon’? Just the two of us doing _whatever_ we want.” Slade feels like he needs a spray bottle or newspaper or something.

“I'm getting pretty tired,” Slade comments vocally. “Maybe it's time for a nap, Talon.” Dick just grins at him.

“Then sleep. I'm perfectly capable of keeping an eye on him,” Tim assures. Slade sure as hell isn't going to leave them alone together. He scoffs mildly and goes back to sharpening his sword.

“Imagine how _thankful_ Owlman would be if you not only brought me home but delivered him Mr. Deathstroke?” Dick temps in a low, sensual growl. “Then all you'd have to do is sit back and watch Jason come running. Bruce would finally see you as a worthy son.”

“He broke your knee,” Tim says and the way he speaks is so cleary from between clenched teeth it almost hurts. “He hurts you.”

“He _loves_ me,” Dick promises. “He was just angry. Please, pretty bird. You can show dad right now how competent you are- how _worthy_ you are.”

“Owlman would never let me have you.”

Slade could hear a pin drop. The sudden silence is deafening and for some reason, Tim doesn't even seem to notice. Dick doesn't move for a second, looking at Tim like he's trying to process what he's said, and then he's _angry_. He pulls so hard against his binds, the bar he's chained to creaks. As small as he is, as small as he looks in the clothes too big for him, they have to remember he's actually incredibly strong for a baseline human.

There's a sudden sharpness to his eyes that cuts through the sedative like he's been physically attacked. Slade moves.

“Owlman doesn't _own_ me,” Dick says with a laugh. The tone in his voice seems to finally alert Tim that he's done something horribly wrong. Slade grabs Dick by the hair in the same movement that Tim jerks away, fortunately avoiding Dick biting him. There's no doubt that would have been bloody.

“Let go of him,” Tim demands, even now.

“ _Nobody_ owns me,” Dick bites, near hysterical. He pulls against Slade's grip hard enough that Slade has to grab his shirt instead to stop from hurting him. “And _you'll_ definitely never _own_ me, _pretty bird_. I'll break both your tiny little wings. You'll never fly again.”

“You really want me to let him go?” Slade asks scathingly. Tim looks at Dick for a moment like he's not sure what to think about this then glares up at Slade but doesn't say anything. He can blame it on the sedative if he wants but the truth is, Dick is getting desperate. He's desperate and his usual tactics aren't working and that _scares_ him.

Dick slacks in his grip suddenly, smiles solemnly at Tim and gives his best pathetic, kicked dog look.

“You really think dad _owns_ me, Tim?” he asks. “ _You_ want to _own_ me, Tim? Dad should have let Nightwing kill you.”

“He's just trying to get a rise out of you and you know it,” Slade reminds him. “He knows if he turns you on us, he'll be home free.”

“I know Talon’s methods,” Tim assures shortly. That doesn't mean they hurt any less. Slade pulls Dick back, away from Tim, and keeps a firm grip on him while he unlocks the cuffs. Dick strains against the zipties and if not for the sedative, he'd surely break free. Instead, he just gives up soon after.

“Keep working,” Slade says, hoisting Dick up onto his feet. Dick audibly snaps his teeth at Tim like a feral animal but Tim doesn't flinch. It's hard to know what he's thinking and as dangerous as that is, it's probably for the best.

“Where are you taking him?” Tim demands.

“To take a shower,” Slade replies fleetingly. “He could use a cool down.” Dick grins as he's lead away.

“If you wanted to see me naked, all you had to do was ask,” he purrs. Tim doesn't argue any further. Though Dick doesn't fight most of the way there when they come upon the bathroom door, he suddenly digs his heels in and tries to squirm away. He stops fighting again once Slade actually gets him in with no clear indication as to what set him off in the first place.

Slade closes and locks the door behind them. The intention is less to keep anyone out and more to keep Dick in. There's only so much he can do about that but hopefully the two deadbolts on top of the numeric lock is too much of a hassle for him to navigate while sedated. Even if it's a throw away safe house, it's still a safe house. Slade breaks the zip ties on Dick's arms and Dick rubs at the marks left behind.

“Aw, don't want to help me wash, Mr. Wilson?” he asks. “Jericho loved when I let him touch me.” If there is any truth in what he says about Joseph, it's that they had a ‘thing’ and nothing else- which honestly doesn't surprise Slade. He doesn't like it, but it doesn't surprise him.

“Sit down,” Slade instructs. He gives Dick a small push and he plops down on the edge of the tub neatly. Slade crouches down in front of him and rolls up his pant leg to check his knee. It doesn't look like he's bled through his bandages which is good. At least Crane is somewhat competent as a surgeon. Dick runs his fingers through Slade's hair then over his jaw and neck but he doesn't grab like before.

“Going to hurt me again?” he purrs. “You're so hot when you're angry.” Fortunately, getting riled up by Talon is becoming tiring and that makes it easier to ignore. Mostly. Slade unwraps his knee and cleans the staples underneath. Dick, shockingly, stays still for it. He bandages it again and wraps a piece of plastic around it to protect it from the water.

“How did you like Jaybird _screaming_ your name?” Dick asks. Slade turns the water on. “You should let me watch next time.”

“If you're going to shower, do it,” Slade instructs. Dick looks him over before smiling. He undresses in a way that's intended to be a show but Slade is far from interested. It's hard not to stare, though. There really are a lot of scars on him. Slade has to wonder how many were gotten in combat and how many were given to him by Owlman. Maybe that's what Tim was looking at.

“Like what you see?” Dick questions mischievously as he steps into Slade's personal space. He takes Slade's hand, draws it slow up his side and kisses him. It's different this time- not at all like Jason. He's not sure that's a good thing. Slade grabs his wrist roughly when Dick reaches for his crotch. Mildly, he yanks both of Dick's hands away from him and gives him a slight push towards the tub.

“Shower,” he instructs again. “Now.” Dick runs his tongue over his lip smugly.

Slade is thoroughly unsurprised, and unamused, by the first several minutes of Dick vocally moaning his name as he masturbates. At some point, however, Dick seems to grow bored of this and finally showers quietly. It's less of a hassle to get him dried off and dresses again. The sedative keeps his energy low which makes him more prone to tiring himself out.

Newly cleaned and ziptied, Slade ushers Dick back out to the main room and tosses him on the couch. He handcuffs an ankle to the bar to make sure he stays there but he's thoroughly disassociating at the moment. As much as him being quiet seems like a bad thing, Slade has no idea how much he can think, or more specifically _plan_ , like this but it's hard to dislike a little silence.

“What did you do to him?” Tim asks and it sounds demanding just because of the way his voice is. He actually seems more curious than anything.

“Nothing,” Slade replies. “He's lethargic. He tired himself out.” Tim looks far from convinced but he doesn't say anything about it. He continues to work. Slade gets some work of his own done.

It's a few hours that Slade is almost certain Dick is either scheming through or sulking during but Jason finally returns. Aside from a few nicks and scrapes, he's no worse off for the wear. He brings food with him.

“How's it comin’?” Jason asks as he hands Tim a burrito. Tim looks at it skeptically which, honestly, is fair considering how fucked up Dick is. Why he decides to eat it anyways, Slade isn't sure.

“I think I found something,” Tim assures.

“Good,” Jason says. It goes without saying they'll discuss it without Dick. He pulls Dick upright and with his switchblade, pops the zipties on his arms. Dick grins at him but, thankfully, he behaves as he eats. Jason doesn't move far from him, though. He tosses one to Slade. Likely not interested in taking his hood off around Tim, Jason doesn't eat.

The rest of them eat in silence.

There's no way Dick isn't thinking.

At any rate, Slade is glad they're not having the ‘let Dick sleep in their bed’ discussion. Jason gives him the sleep aid and, like the previous night, leaves him to pass out on the couch. Now they can actually relax. Well, as much as they can with a different owl kid in their personal space. Tim might be quieter than his brother but not necessarily anymore bearable.

They wait to make sure Dick is asleep.

“Tony Zucco is still alive,” Tim says.

“And that helps us how?” Slade asks blandly.

“He killed Dick's parents,” Jason informs him. Alright, Slade can see how that might help.

“He's in a hospital with convenient amnesia,” Tim goes on. “Owlman was supposed to have killed him. It looks like instead he changed his name, had a heart attack, and has been hospitalized since.”

“I’m guessin’ Owlman knows about this?” Jason asks.

“I think he planned this,” Tim replies.

“Why would he go out of his way to not only lie to Dick but keep Zucco alive?” Jason asks mildly. Slade glances over his shoulder minutely.

“My guess? As a present,” Tim says.

“Bruce may be a dumbass but even I don't think he'd go to all this effort just to let Talon kill Zucco later,” Jason says. “'sides, feel like we already passed the milestones that he would'a used a gift like that for.”

“It doesn't matter,” Tim replies mildly. “We need to take Talon to Zucco ourselves. If Owlman finds out, he'll just convince Talon he had good intentions or whatever. We can prove Owlman lied to him and deliver him his parents’ murderer at the same time.”

“And that'll be enough, you think?” Jason asks. Slade looks up at the ceiling, follows the path of the lights and looks at the door.

“If it doesn't switch Talon’s alliances, it'll at least earn us his favor,” Tim promises. “But I doubt he'll ever trust Owlman again if he finds out Zucco is alive- and that Owlman was hiding him.”

“Alright, let's-” Jason stops. Tim stops. Someone's here. Slade puts his hand on his sword as Jason slowly moves. If it were Owlman, they wouldn't hear him coming. Jason stops moving towards the intruder and suddenly starts back peddling away. “ _Shit_ , it's Nightwing.”

“If Nightwing’s here, Owlman isn't far,” Tim says quickly. “I told you we needed to distract him.” Jason quickly unlocks Dick’s cuff.

“Leave him,” Slade instructs.

“Deathstroke, I'm not-” Jason begins.

“ _Leave him_ ,” Slade says more firmly. “You two go. I'll distract Owlman. You can't keep dragging Talon around with you, it's just going to make Owlman angrier.”

“How are you-” Jason pauses, exhaling shakily. “No, you don't have to do that. You don't- _shit_.” It's going to hurt, a lot and probably for a long time, but at the end of the day, Slade can't die. He trusts Jason to figure out a way to get him out of Owlman’s possession when they're ready. Tim, who clearly has no problem with this idea, hurriedly makes himself scarce. Obviously he doesn't want Nightwing or Owlman to find him here.

Jason gives another look at Dick before hastily abandoning ship. Slade moves at once, honing in on Nightwing’s location and giving him a hand inside. A hard kick knocks the door off its hinges and Nightwing jumps into action like a coiled spring. Slade stops the impact of his sword with his own and the loud, metallic sound fills the safe house.

Nightwing looks taken aback.

“Mr. Wilson-?” he murmurs.

“Sorry about this, kid,” Slade replies. He punches the kid in the face, immediately putting Nightwing on the ground. Even if he's the youngest of Jason's siblings and therefore the smallest too, Slade has long since learned to take any advantage he can. Taking it easy on them is only going to end poorly for himself. That being said, Slade still swings with the spine of his sword when he follows up, trying to knock Nightwing unconscious.

Tiny as he is, he's nimble and surprisingly hardy. Nightwing swiftly rolls out of the way and is back on his feet no worse for the wear. He's a well trained swordsman and it shows as they exchange blows. As much as Slade knows better than to hold back, he also really isn't given the choice. Nightwing comes at him hard and quick. Unlike Talon’s escrima sticks, Nightwing’s sword is definitely for killing but he's doing the same thing Slade is- he's avoiding using lethal force.

Owlman, however, is not.

While Slade is trying to hold Nightwing off, a throwing feather whizzes past his head and hits Slade hard in the chest. It punctures his under armor and lodges itself firm in his chest, deep enough it nearly hits his heart. The sheer force of it pushes him back. Startled, Nightwing quickly disengages and puts some room between them. Several more feather shaped knives fly out in quick succession and Slade can only deflect a couple of them. The others are aimed right for his organs and if not for his armor offering _some_ resistance, they'd likely reach.

A final one hits his knee though and Nightwing jumps at the opportunity. He hits Slade in the back of the knees with the spine of his sword when he stumbles, knocking him to the ground. From there, it's an easy maneuver to twist Slade's sword from his grip and send it skidding across the floor. Nightwing hits him in the back of the neck with the handle of his own sword firmly, forcing Slade to catch himself on his hands to avoid making anymore of a pin cushion of himself.

Owlman picks up his sword. He drives it completely through Slade's back and into the solid concrete below, pinning him in place. Needless to say, Slade isn't his first concern. He moves towards Dick swiftly and checks his pulse to assure he's still alive, obviously having not moved in the slightest during the loud fight. Once he's sure Dick is still breathing, he begins checking him over for other injuries.

“Nightwing,” Owlman says. “Kill him.”

Slade lifts his head enough to see Nightwing pointing his sword at his face. Adrenaline aside, everything super hurts. A feeling he's sure he's going to get accustomed to soon. Nightwing hesitates.

“I gave you an order, Nightwing,” Owlman says. He cuts Dick’s ties and lifts him off the couch carefully, carrying him partially over one of his shoulders with one arm. Nightwing winces under his mask when Slade coughs up blood. Obviously realising he's having a hard time with this, Owlman gives him a hand. He grabs Nightwing’s arm and forces him to thrust his sword forward.

“We're leaving.”

Slade awakens bound in the backseat of a vehicle. Owlman’s, obviously. Nightwing is sat at his feet, holding his sword awkwardly in both hands and looking at Dick unconscious in the passenger seat. Even behind his domino he's clearly worried. He wakes up far too late to have any idea where they are but he knows it's the cave Jason has talked about more than once. Talk about being in the devil's den.

The way that he's bound prevent his shoulders from being able to heal, both blades broken and twisted behind him to keep him from even trying to squirm free. It hurts. Owlman pulls Dick out of the car first, hoisting him back over his shoulder, then grabs Slade by the back of his shirt and drags him out. He hits the ground roughly and being dragged across the cold rock isn't exactly pleasant, either. Nightwing follows close behind.

As much as Slade has more than a few choice words for Owlman, he goes ahead and keeps them to himself. He's let go near a console and, despite having carried him so nicely thus far, Owlman drops Dick in a heap next to him. Clearly that sleep agent is incredibly strong.

“Slade Wilson,” Owlman says as he pulls something from his desk. Slade isn't nearly in the correct position to see and moving hurts his entire back, shoulders straining to heal and still unable. Owlman doesn't say anything else, though. What he can see is Owlman crouch next to Dick and flatten his fingers against his thigh. He pushes an auto-syringe against the spot and injects him with something. The results are almost instantaneous.

Dick is awake at once, urgently getting on his hands and knees as he scrambles to regain the senses he hasn't had for two days. Owlman drops a bucket in front of him which Dick promptly grabs to vomit into. Slade tries not to wince. As much of a pain in the ass Dick still was, he does actually feel bad about having to drug him so heavily.

Owlman rolls Slade onto his stomach, limiting his sight even more, which is soon a secondary concern. Something is pressed into the small of his back and he hears the mechanical trigger of it. Likewise, he understands what's happening immediately: his spine is severed. He can't feel anything below the waist. That's one way to stop him from trying to escape. Slade grunts as he's pulled onto his back again and left in a pool of his own blood.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Dick rasps out shortly. He looks up enough to see Nightwing linger over him in concern and he grins. “Hey baby bird, are you okay?”

Nightwing nods curtly and Dick slowly, unsteady, pushes himself upright. It takes him a second to find his balance and he looks a little worse for the wear but once he's upright, he smiles at Owlman.

“Where is Red Hood?” Owlman asks. No one asks if Dick is okay.

“I- I don't know,” Dick says. Owlman hits him so hard, Dick is thrown back to the ground on his hands and knees. He stays there, audibly breathing for a moment, then he laughs. “I do know something else.”

“Speak,” Owlman demands.

“Red Hood? It's Jason, dad. He's alive. Jason's alive,” Dick urges, his shoulders shaking in laughter presumably but- Slade can't see his face to be sure.

“ _You lost Jason_?” Owlman rephrases.

“Red Bird is with him,” Dick says. “He's keeping an eye on him, convinced Jason they can work together. He'll know where Red Hood is.” Slade isn't sure if Dick is telling the truth and Tim really is playing them for a fool or if this is a blatant lie. If it's a lie, Slade isn't sure who for, if Dick is trying to stop from receiving further punishment or if he's protecting Tim from the fallout of his own betrayal. Owlman is silent for a long time. Nightwing adjusts nervously.

“Contact him,” Owlman instructs.

“I can't,” Dick replies. “Red Hood is smart, dad, you know that. He took RB’s gear like he took mine.” That _is_ a lie. Woven so perfectly at a moment’s notice, Dick blankets himself in so much false information, Slade doesn't know how he remembers it all. Owlman remains quiet as Dick laughs again. “Red Bird will bring him right to you, I promise. As we speak, he's proving himself to Red Hood and when he's ready, they'll come straight here. Soon.”

“And you're sure about that?” Owlman asks. Dick finally lifts his head, not to look at Owlman but to smile, all teeth, at Slade. The four parallel lines on his face from Owlman’s clawed glove are crisp red and several little droplets of blood rise to the surface.

“RH _needs_ Mr. Wilson,” Dick says. What he doesn't say, Slade notes, is how they're romantically involved. Dick knows, proved that he did, and Owlman would absolutely use that information well, but he keeps it to himself. “I _want_ him.”

Regrettably, Slade thinks he still prefers Talon over Owlman.

“He's yours,” Owlman says. Actually, Slade would prefer to be let go. Dick crawls over to him, running his tongue over his teeth as he goes, and straddles Slade's hips. His nerves have thorough been severed because even this he can't feel. This is bad but nothing Slade wasn't expecting. He can only hope they'll get bored soon. Dick runs his hands up Slade's chest and pushes down on his collar, forcing his weight against his broken shoulders and making him wince.

“A toy that doesn't stay broken,” Dick purrs lowly as his hands slide further up and wrap around Slade's throat. He _expects_ another broken neck but maybe that's too kind now. After the last two days they've had, it's not surprising Dick is upset. Without warning, Dick hits him in the face. Again and again and again until Slade can taste blood and his eye swells shut.

“What's wrong, Nightwing?” Dick asks and he leans forward, putting further weight on Slade's broken shoulders and pulling a harsh sound from him. “It's okay, baby bird, Mr. Wilson won't _stay_ broken. Maybe you should practice your killing on him.” Slade can't see anymore but he can feel Dick lean in and run his hot tongue along his jaw, undoubtedly following a trail of blood.

“Or maybe he should be your _first_ ,” he goes on with a purr. “No? Don't want to lose your virginity to Slade Wilson, _the_ Deathstroke? Ex-president? _Shame_.” With both hands, Dick grabs his head and slams him into the hard concrete. That death is almost instant, Slade only hears the distant echo of a crack before he blacks out.

Nightwing looks concerned when he wakes up again. Slade tries not to move too much but obviously the kid has already seen he's awake. He can feel his legs again and his jaw and nose are reset but his arms are still tied constantly breaking his shoulders. Nightwing looks to Owlman and Talon nervously, the two of them discussing something Slade can't hear. He looks back down at Slade with a grimace.

All Slade can really do is give him a slow, reassuring nod.

“Wilson’s awake,” Damian alerts. Dick, dressed in his Talon suit once again, glances over with a grin. He has no idea what Owlman has been told while he was dead and that's not great. Slade doesn't plan on talking, it's really not going to get him anywhere, but knowing how much or little lying Dick was doing never hurt anything.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Dick greets. “We're going to have some fun and you're going to tell me what you know about Jason's death and subsequent ‘undeath’.” On the brightside, Slade legitimately doesn't know anything about that. Jason came to his daughter to learn sword techniques from her. It wasn't until he had left and eventually came back that they even knew he used to be one of Owlman’s prodigies- even longer until they found out about the Joker.

On the downside, Slade doesn't think this is going to be fun for him. Especially considering the tray Dick hands Damian to hold. Slade is doing his damnedest to remember all those pain blocking mental exercises.

“I was hoping you'd say that,” Dick hums, flipping a scalpel in his hand. The marks on his face look deeper than they were earlier, maybe just because they've been cleaned now but they're definitely going to scar.

Dick mounts him and Slade honestly isn't sure how much struggling is going to help him here. He doesn't want to make it _fun_ to torture him but, that being said, he's not entirely sure that's possible with Talon. Jason has recounted, on more than one occasion, Talon tearing dead bodies limb from limb for the fun of it- ones he didn't even make.

With the scalpel, Dick slices through his shirt and then reaches for the shears to clip through his thin body armor. The scalpel is then applied directly to his skin. Slade continues to remind himself not to be ‘fun’ as he tries not to make too many satisfying noises. A y-incision is cut into his chest, like an autopsy except he's alive and starting to get pretty fucking angry come to think of it. Incredibly, incredibly angry.

Dick pins the sections back and Damian looks increasingly pale by the second. There's blood everywhere.

“You're sturdier than I thought,” Dick compliments. “Most people die from shock by now. Ice pick, please.” Slade loves being sturdy. He especially loves watching as Dick takes the ice pick and positions the sharp tip right against his heart. He _really_ loves the agonizing pain of it being slowly, steadily pushed in and _through_. Slade rasps out a struggled noise. It doesn't kill him but he can feel the sharp, excruciating pain every time his heart beats and he wishes it could.

“That will keep you from healing while we play,” he assures. Slade wasn't exactly going to start healing with Dick's hands in his chest cavity anyways. Dick looks down into his open body and a puzzled expression crosses his face. He looks back up to Slade questioningly. There's a brief moment of understanding and then he can see the gears turn behind Dick's eyes. He's thinking- no, he's _adjusting_.

With how handsy Dick is, Slade expected him to figure out he's a trans man sooner than later. He didn't expect that to be because he surgically opened his chest and looked at his organs.

“Is something wrong, Talon?” Owlman asks. Dick looks back down and he grins.

“Just enjoying the view,” he assures, obviously keeping this ‘revelation’ to himself. As much as Slade is sure there's a much worse reason for it, he appreciates it. What he doesn't appreciate is Dick pushing his hand under Slade's ribcage and, sure enough, grabbing one of his lungs. Instantly, he can't breath.

“He's not going to talk,” Damian murmurs.

“Then he'll scream,” Dick replies, far from concerned. Slade hyperventilates as Dick _squeezes_ , constraining his lung and physically stopping him from breathing correctly. He isn't sure when he dies because he passes out without warning.

Fortunately when he wakes up again, he isn't in immediate peril. Slade looks around and when he doesn't immediately see anyone, lifts his head. He's not in the cave anymore which, potentially is worse. However, his shoulders aren't broken anymore, either. This is the Wayne manor, something he's a little more familiar with. A pull on his arms assures the cuffs chaining him to the headboard of the bed are steadfast, though- and painful. They're tight and they definitely feel like they're locked in _through_ his wrists.

Slade wouldn't be surprised.

He needs to get out of here. Pulling against the headboard doesn't budge it and straining his cuffs assures him they are, in fact, fitted with metal inserts to lock them in place around his wrists. He can't turn them enough to get at the lock. This is going to take some thinking. Slade attempts to get himself further up onto the bed but it twists his arms uncomfortably and doesn't particularly help his situation.

To make matters more annoying, he can plainly see his sword sitting on the dresser across from the foot of the bed. Slade grunts mildly. He glances over as Damian comes to stand in the doorway, sans his Nightwing get up, and watches for a moment. Then he's coming in- unfortunately. Slade watches as Damian sets the tray he's brought with him on the side table and hops up onto the bed with him.

Considering how much worse things could be, Slade guesses this is fine. Damian sets a tea cup on his chest and pours him some tea he can't drink before pouring himself some.

“Should you be in here?” Slade asks mildly.

“Father told me to keep an eye on you,” Damian says. Slade tugs at his cuffs enough to make the chains connecting them rattle.

“I was just about to leave, too,” he replies sarcastically. Damian reaches up and Slade watches discreetly as he unlocks one of the cuffs. He can't help but wince as the metal bar is pulled out of his wrist, covered in his own blood. Immediately he reaches to get the other one off but whatever Damian did, Slade can't. There _isn't_ a lock on them.

“Hm?” Damian offers him a tiny sandwich.

“I don't have an appetite, thanks,” Slade says dryly. “Where is Talon?” Damian shrugs.

“He left in his gear earlier,” he assures quite freely as he sips his tea. As much as Slade wants to think, or at least hope, Damian is more like Jason than his other siblings, it's hard to tell yet. He's also the only of Owlman’s blood children and that is surely not without repercussion.

“Where's Owlman?” Slade asks since he's getting answers regardless of the truth in them.

“Visiting Black Mask,” Damian says. That means Dick is likely going after Scarecrow. This is bad. Slade really hopes Jason knows what he's doing. By taking Talon, they've damned all of Gotham. Owlman isn't going to find Black Mask, Roman is too practiced at avoiding him and he's going to lay low until things blow over. Hopefully Jason has done the same for Crane and gotten him somewhere safe for the time being.

Unfortunately, that's just going to make matters worse. Unable to get to who they want, Owlman and Talon will go after any and everyone directly connected to them. They'll claw apart the city in vagrant rage. It's no longer a matter of earning Talon’s favour, if they can't get him to turn against Owlman completely, they've just made Gotham a living nightmare for everyone- all because Jason didn't want Dick to get a few scratches. The thought annoys him more than he wants it to.

Slade looks Damian over skeptically.

“What is your father going to do with Red Hood?” he asks. Again, Damian shrugs.

“Previously, the inclination was to ‘punish’ him,” he says. “To death.” Jason's been in a lot of Owlman’s business, interfering with many of his plans and even going as far as to chase off members of the court. It's not surprising Owlman was after his head.

“But not anymore,” Slade presses.

“Father does not speak of Todd frequently,” Damian says. “He and Talon have only discussed bringing him home, not what follows.”

“Why are you answering my questions?” Slade asks.

“What are you to do with the information?” Damian replies simply. Definitely still Owlman’s kid. Slade looks down at the tea cup on his chest. He doesn't trust it or Damian. By blood he might be Owlman’s but Nightwing is notorious for working with Talon and _well_. How much of that is a conscious effort on Damian’s part is up for debate.

“Why did you kidnap Talon?” Damian asks. Slade sees now. An answer for an answer. He has to be careful what he says, Damian is just going to parrot it back to Owlman and Talon. That's if the room isn't already tapped to hell and back. They're just using Damian to get answers out of him.

“Didn't,” Slade replies. “He came at us.”

“Why did you keep him _hostage_ then?” Damian reiterates blandly, obviously making little distinction in the two.

“You'd have to ask Red Hood,” Slade says.

“You went out of your way not to kill him,” Damian says like it's really _that_ hard to actively decide not to _murder_ someone. Even someone as mouthy as Talon. It's not a question, though, so Slade doesn't treat it like one.

“Does Owlman hit you?”

The question seems to catch Damian off guard. He blinks, taken aback, and proceeds to purse his lips together unpleasantly.

“Tt, no,” he scoffs over his tea cup. “Gray- _Talon_ says I'm not the kind to retain information that way. It would only drive me to resent my father.”

Slade understands why Jason wants to help his brother so much. He lies, a lot, but there is truth in the things Dick says- sometimes unsaid things. If it weren't for Dick, Slade isn't sure Jason would have come out half as normal as he is. He suddenly has no doubt that Dick was lying to protect Tim. Furthermore, it seems more than likely that he _did_ turn off his tracker long before Jason fried it.

“Glad you two are getting along,” Dick hums. Damian scrambles to get off of the bed, hurriedly grabbing both tea cups and getting himself out of the way even as Dick remains leaned in the doorframe. He grins and honestly, Slade forgot how _normal_ he looks in regular clothes. In Jason's clothes, he still had that wild look to him from the sedative that made his small looking form more akin to a cornered, vicious animal. In his own clothes, he just looks like Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne's happy, fun loving son.

The fact that he can pull this act off so effortlessly, even to Slade who _knows_ what he is, is unsettling.

“Where's Scarecrow, Mr. Wilson?” Dick asks, nicely if not a little bored. Slade doesn't say anything. Damian moves further out of the way as Dick steps into the room, holding out Scarecrow’s mask. “Not in his little den, obviously.”

Good. Jason did get him out.

“He _was_ talking to me,” Damian murmurs. “Even without the tea.” And Slade was right not to trust the tea, figures. He reaches for his other cuff again, quickly trying to figure out how Damian got it off.

“Was he?” Dick repeats. Bad move kid. “You like talking to baby bird, Mr. Wilson?”

“I don't know,” Slade says firmly.

“You don't know?” Dick purrs back, reaching to put a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

“I don't know where Scarecrow is,” Slade bites. “If Jason moved him-” Shit, sorry Crane. He sighs deeply. “If Jason moved him, he might be in Arkham’s abandoned wing. He knows you wouldn't look there because Scarecrow wouldn't want to be there.”

“See, Dami? Mr. Wilson _likes_ children,” Dick says. Slade looks somewhere else. “You can use that to make men like him do _whatever_ you want. Just like Joey did.” The way he phrases it, _says_ it, definitely isn't by accident but then again, nothing is with Dick. Slade bites back the desire to bark out a bitter defense knowing it won't get him anywhere. Instead, he angrily yanks at his remaining cuff as Dick comes closer.

There's not a lot he can do as Dick pushes him onto his stomach and with the same little gun, severs his spine. It feels different this time. Slade can feel the hard disk violently shoved between his vertebrates likely an attempt to slow his healing down. Then Dick removes his other cuff and drags him off the bed and into a heap on the floor. He's physically dragged across the room less than nicely.

“Go tell dad where to find Scarecrow,” Dick instructs and he makes a motion for Damian to ‘run along’. Damian hesitates, looking at Slade on the floor briefly before taking his tray and leaving. Dick makes a content hum as he, too, leaves the room only for the connecting one. Slade hears the water begin to run and that's an idea he hates. He reaches for his back, gritting his teeth as he feels the blood soaked injury paralyzing him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Slade hisses out under his breath as he pushes his fingers into the wound and tries to undo whatever Dick did. His fingers are too slippery. His sword, though-

“Ouch,” Dick says and he comes to crouch besides him. He grins and Slade stops what he's doing begrudgingly. “I'm just repaying the favour, Mr. Wilson. You're _filthy_.” Yeah, with his own blood. Again, Dick drags him and Slade really just tries not to make things worse for himself.

The bathroom floor is cold.

“I'll even get you some of dad’s old clothes to wear,” Dick promises. Slade makes an attempt to swat him away when Dick starts cutting his clothes off but Dick punches him hard in the face and at the moment, that's enough to deter Slade further. He's dragged to the tub and, unceremoniously, heaved into it, splashing water everywhere. Slade urgently pushes himself upright so his head's not underwater and Dick laughs.

“Whoops. You're heavier than I thought, sorry,” he says insincerely. He pulls Slade by his arm into a sitting position. “There we go. Looks like you're going to need new bathwater soon.” Yeah, because he has an open wound on his back hemorrhaging blood at this point.

As much as Slade expects almost anything at this point, Jason was fortunately right about another thing: Dick really _isn't_ a sexual predator. For as much as he talks and acts and _says_ , he doesn't actually _do_ anything. Now seems like it would be the time, after all.

In a weird, mean way, he really is just returning the favour.

Slade has to wonder how Dick would have turned out if he hadn't been taken in by Owlman.

Dick leaves, likely to fetch those clothes he mentioned, and Slade immediately starts working on his escape again. Even if he gets the disk out of his spine, there's no way he can heal fast enough to walk out of here. There's no way he would even _without_ the disk. Slade feels like this is intended to be a more permanent thing. He looks around quickly and, not for the first time in his life, hates how big rich people bathrooms are.

Tweezers won't be strong enough. If there's a first aid kit, maybe there's something plier like in it and it is the Owl house, there has to be a first aid kit. Forgoing that, well, if he can find something to maim himself with further, maybe his fingers will work.

Getting out of the wet tub is more effort than he thought it would be with not only the lack of his legs but of his hips and waist as well. His entire lower body is just dead weight and everything's slippery. By the time he gets onto the still very cold floor, Dick is back. Well this was a stupid, useless waste of his time. He looks up at Dick blandly.

“You know, I'm starting to see why little wing _actually_ likes you,” Dick comments. “You just don't know when to stop.”

“What are you going to do when Red does show up for me?” Slade asks. Dick kicks him onto his back, sending an uncomfortable ache up his spine. He hums contently.

“First break him,” Dick says. “Then break you.”

That's what Slade thought.

“Then make sure we never lose Jason ever again.”

In some twisted, fucked up way, Dick really does care a lot for his siblings.


	3. Owlman

Lucky for Slade, Talon does actually get bored of torturing him sooner than later. Aside from occasionally trying to goad Damian into hurting him, which Damian uncomfortably passes on each time, they don't bother him much. Owlman may be a sadist but he's clearly not interested in hurting someone he can't kill. Dick seems to have come to the same issue, his amusement for Slade's healing factor diminishing rather quickly.

Slade isn't sure how long he's been here.

He will say his healing factor is just as stubborn as he is. While the disk in his spine was definitely an obstacle, it hasn't stopped his body from actually trying to correct himself. More and more he regains the feeling in his legs and wisely, he doesn't tip any of them off about it. It's uncomfortable, enough to be downright _painful_ , but the more he stays quiet and ‘distant’, the less they pay attention to him.

“Red Bird is here,” Owlman says. Dick glances over minutely from where he's fixing one of his escrima sticks. “No sign of Red Hood.”

Dick doesn't say anything. It's a silent couple minutes as Tim makes his way down to them. Slade has been in this cave long enough to know he doesn't fucking like it. There are _actual_ owls in it and they're _mean_. Dick and Damian both stand when Tim enters the room, ready for anything as always.

“Where is Red Hood?” Owlman asks. He has a one track mind at the best of times.

“He's coming,” Tim replies fleetingly. “I’m here to ‘distract’ you so he can make a break with Wilson.” Slade has no fucking idea what's going on. As much as he wants to take this at face value and say Tim deceived them, he has no fucking clue. He's tired and trying to figure his way through the seven part trapeze mind puzzle of the owl family is way more effort than he has at the moment.

The only thing he's certain of right now is that Jason wouldn't come and get him unless he thought he had something to leverage against Owlman. Tim is a good liar but who he's lying to remains to be seen. Dick grins, though, which is rarely a good sign and that doesn't strike confidence in Slade.

It's several more minutes of silence until there's movement on one of the cameras. Dick twirls his stick.

“Come on, NW,” he says, the excitement clear in his voice as he begins out of the cave. Slade can see the red hooded figure just barely from his angle on the tv. “Let's go meet your other brother.”

Which just leaves Owlman and Tim. Wisely, Tim keeps his distance. Unlike his brothers, Tim won't let Owlman knock him around but that just means abuse is more likely to escalate to murder very quickly. For the time being, neither of them aggress, instead simply watching the video feed as Dick and Damian meet Jason outside. Slade can see a fight break out but he can't tell who's winning. It doesn't look like Jason.

Then there's an explosion on a different camera.

“ _Dammit_ , Todd,” Tim says exhaustively. “This wasn't part of the plan.”

“While you were ‘distracting’, Red Hood was finding help,” Owlman comments. Tim gives him a nasty glare. Slade doesn't like Roy and he especially doesn't like Koriand’r, but he thinks he can make an exception for them this time. Owlman and Tim leave to deal with Koriand’r.

Tim leaves something behind.

Slade doesn't have the luxury of trying to decide if Tim is an ally or an enemy right now. He needs to get out of here and if this is his opportunity, he has to take it. If it's a trap, it's no worse than the situation he's in right now. As soon as he can make out Owlman’s dark figure on one of the screens, Slade is working on getting himself free. He doesn't have the full feeling back in his legs yet but there's enough for him to walk and, more importantly, get out.

It hurts. It takes everything in his ability not to make any noise as he swings himself by the hips. Every move reminds him exactly where that metal disk is in his back and how easy it would be to accidentally push it back between his vertebrates. He manages to get his legs up where he needs them, hooking one foot up onto the bar he's hanging from and pulling himself up.

Oh that _hurts_. That's the absolute _worse_. Slade grits his teeth as he leverages himself against the bar and, with a little work, manages to pull himself up. He yanks the throwing feather out of his shoulder with his teeth, transfers it to his fingers, and picks the lock to his cuffs. Fortunately they expected him to stay paralyzed so the cuffs are far from difficult.

Slade pulls the rest of the feathers out of him and drops back down to the ground. The impact nearly floors him, his back hurts so much, but he presses on. He picks up his sword from the table Dick was working at and pulls the strap over his head before limping to the console Owlman works from.

On screen, Koriand’r is giving Owlman and Tim a hell of a time out front. Later, Bruce Wayne will surely put his usual ‘victim’ spin on this brutal attack, but that's nothing new. She's not exactly a good guy herself and if it weren't for the fact that she and Talon play this ‘catch and release’ game often, she likely wouldn't have come to help Jason.

Slade has no idea where Jason _is_ , but the man Dick and Damian fight on the other side of the manor isn't him.

He doesn't have time to loiter here much longer. Slade picks up the device Tim left behind and grimaces immediately. It's a one way teleport and he has no idea where it's set to. He said there can't be a place worse than this but he's starting to rethink that. On the other hand, Tim had to have gotten this from Jason; this is from Slade’s well hidden stockpile. Hopefully Tim is on their side after all.

Dick pops the fake Red Hood’s helmet off, immediately confirming the suspicions he likely already had about it not being Jason. Roy grins at him but Dick is shockingly unamused. He looks at the camera, at _Slade_ looking at the screen, the scars on his face still angry red, and Slade makes the split second decision that he'd rather take his chances with Tim.

The severity of the teleport whisking him away disorients his entire being. He stumbles violently, doing no favours to his back, and almost loses his balance. Jason quickly catches him, holding him upright by the waist.

“ _Shit Wilson_ ,” Jason murmurs but even with his voice distorted, hearing him again is nice. “You look like hell.”

“Feel like it,” Slade assures.

“We need to go,” Jason says, leaving their touching reunion for another time. “We couldn't get the untethered zeta to move you more than a couple hundred feet. Owlman’s going to be on us in a heartbeat.” Slade nods but as Jason tries to move away, he grabs him. He pulls Jason into him, hugging him firmly, and Jason stiffens. “Slade-”

Slade presses one of Jason's hands into the small of his back and he goes quiet.

“Feel that?” he asks. Jason nods. “I need you to take it out. If it moves too far in the wrong direction, it's going to paralyze me.” If they could count on not having to fight, he'd be fine, but they can't. All it would take is one very deliberate move to ram it back into place or, worse, into his organs.

“Okay,” Jason agrees after a long moment. He pulls out his switchblade and tugs up the back of Slade's shirt but hesitates again. “Fuck, okay, fuck. This is gonna hurt.”

“It hurts now,” Slade assures. He knows Jason doesn't like to hurt him, doesn't like having to use his healing factor as an excuse to 'operate’ on him without anesthetic, but sometimes it's necessary. Jason is quick about it, at least. He cuts into Slade's back with a single incision and it somehow hurts more when Jason is trying not to hurt him. Slade squeezes him tighter to focus on anything else.

The gloved fingers digging into the wound aren't much better. Jason latches onto the disk much easier than he could himself, and carefully works it out. Slade bites into his padded shoulder and grunts painfully. It's quick work but it feels like it takes forever. The metal is dropped on the ground.

“Alright, it's out,” Jason alerts.

“Thank you,” Slade says curtly. “Let's move.” He follows Jason away from the manor, limping less and less with his body now fully capable of mending itself. From Jason's helmet, he hears a distant hum of talking.

“That's fine,” Jason replies. He mounts his bike and Slade winces as he follows suit. “Keep your heads down until this blows over. Thanks Roy.” They move and fast. There's no way to tell if they're being tailed but right now, it doesn't matter much. Getting away from Owlman’s home turf is more important. Slade pulls his face mask from Jason's bag as they go and dons it.

“We need to meet up with Red Bird,” Jason says. “Before Talon gets to him.”

“Did you find something?” Slade asks.

“We found Zucco,” Jason says. “He didn't kill Dick’s parents.” Before Slade can ask any further questions, Jason is cursing under his breath. “Shit, Talon’s on Red Bird already. We need to help him.”

Prior to this, Slade would show great doubt to Dick's actual desire to hurt Tim. Now? They can't be sure Talon won't kill him. A sharp turn takes them further into the city. Slade draws his sword to the ready in preparation for the inevitable fight. Owlman surely isn't far behind and that's significantly worse for them. Getting Tim to disengage so they can find somewhere to hide is going to be their best option but Slade is no longer sure it's one they can take.

“There,” Jason alerts and Slade looks up enough to watch Red Bird hop across a building and Talon follow shortly after. Jason tails their movements between alleys and narrow walkways long enough for Slade to whistle up at them. Tim looks down at him but so does Dick. They keep moving but Tim is descending rapidly to receive their aid.

“Open street or alley?” Jason asks.

“Alley,” Slade answers. Fighting Talon in an alley is hell, as they've already learned the hard way, but it might be their only saving grace if they have to fight Owlman let alone both of them at once. Jason slides his bike down a dead end and hurriedly, Tim drops down behind them. Dick slows his chase to a stalk. Slade dismounts the bike.

“And after I was so nice to all of you,” Dick says. His scars crinkle when he grins. He walks towards them and Slade moves to meet him halfway. His only advantage this time is that he knows Talon’s moves from last time- an advantage not to be taken lightly. Dick comes at him hard. His escrima sticks hit the spine of Slade's sword with enough force to shake him but this time, Slade is ready for it. He pushes back hard, forcing Talon back.

“Hurry up,” Jason hisses.

“I _am_ ,” Tim snaps back. “ _Shut up_.” They better be doing something useful back there.

“You really think Red Bird is going to give you an edge in this fight?” Dick asks. “How's your back feel, Deathstroke?” Bad, as it turns out. It's healed but the repeated abuse has left him with severe phantom ache. He works through it. The alley doesn't give him much room to maneuver but Slade manages to fend off most of Talon’s strikes with well placed, well  _timed_ pivots. Their one benefit right now is Talon isn't trying to get past him. The downside is, there's no way they're going to finish this fight at this rate.

“You couldn't stop me last time,” Dick reminds him. “What makes you think you can this time? I'm going to _drag_ you back to the manor _screaming_. I'm going to kill Tim then make you _watch_ Owlman _break_ Jason.” He's bluffing. Dick lies, a lot, but right now, he's terrified. Slade couldn't say specifically of what, but he would hazard a guess at it being Owlman. He hits harder, quicker.

Dick is afraid and _smart_. Slade is quickly losing the edge he has as Dick adapts to the fight. He's starting to lose ground.

“You know what I heard?” Dick purrs, putting down enough force that the blade of Slade's sword is dangerously close to his own neck. “You don't much care for _drain_ cleaner.” Taking advantage of his poor positioning, Dick suddenly kicks the handle of his sword, giving him enough room to shove one of his escrima sticks into Slade's shoulder and shock him. It's immediately clear it's a lot stronger than last time, too.

Slade tries to hold his ground while his heart simultaneously tries to have a heart attack and not. He sees Dick reel back to deliver what would surely be a devastating blow, but he can't get his limbs to respond.

Jason's suddenly in front of him.

“Talon, stop!” he barks but it's not his command that stops Dick; it's the piece of paper he's holding out. Dick reads it and his sharp, predatory grin falls into a neutral expression. He reads it again, three times, four. He takes it out of Jason's hands. Slade regains the use of his limbs.

Dick doesn't say anything when he looks up but his expression is far more wild than Slade has ever seen it- even while he was drugged. He looks at Jason, then Tim, then Slade, then back to the paper. Whatever is on it has stopped his directive entirely. Talon takes a step back and then he's leaving in a full sprint. Even now, Slade can't call it ‘fleeing’ but they're in the clear for the time being.

“We need to move,” Jason says hastily. Slade can agree to that.

“Dare I ask what made him run away?” he asks.

“He didn't ‘run away’,” Tim assures. “He went to go check facts.”

“Tony Zucco didn't kill his parents, Slade,” Jason tells him again. “Owlman did.”

Slade nearly stumbles.

“Let's hope our proof is good enough,” Tim murmurs.

“For now, it's best if we keep our heads down,” Jason says. “Slade needs some time to recover, anyways.”

He really hopes they made the right call.

They second they're in any resemblance of safety, Jason grabs onto him and almost smacks his helmet into Slade's face trying to kiss him. He stops, laughs a little, and Slade reaches up to take it off of him. It might have only been a week tops, but there's so much worry behind Jason's kiss it makes Slade feel like he's been gone years. Jason latches onto his face, unwanting and unwilling to part from him so soon, and he grabs Jason's waist.

“Are you okay?” Jason asks between lips and teeth.

“Fine,” Slade gruffs back.

“How are you actually?” Jason rephrases, coasting his fingers through Slade's hair. His body may be healed but he's tired. The constant physical and mental abuse has left him drained regardless of how short it was. Dick may have grown bored quickly but that doesn't mean just being in Owlman’s _nest_ isn't draining. Is it any wonder his fledglings turn out the way they do?

“Glad to be out of there,” Slade replies. Jason huffs a small laugh.

“No one told you to do that,” he assures. “We could have figured somethin’ else out.”

“Or we could have died,” Tim says matter of factly. Slade's face drops as he remembers Tim is here. “Bruce wanted Red Hood dead and I'm sure he would have had no complaints if I dropped dead, too.” He takes his own mask off, holding it in his hands briefly before reaching up to ruffle his hair.

“Shouldn't we be splittin’ up?” Jason asks. “Make us harder to find or somethin’?”

“No,” Tim says. “If we are found, our only chance is working together.” They're just going to have to trust that Tim really is on their side. With what Slade knows, his suspicions are mostly sedated. Mostly. Tim might not be working for Owlman but that's not to say he won't still turn on them at a moment’s notice if it benefits him.

Him or Talon.

Jason kisses him again, perhaps trying to ‘encourage’ Tim to find something else to do with an over the top display of affection, but it doesn't work. Slade doesn't think Tim would care if they got down and made love in front of him. Unfortunately. Jason pushes off.

“Have you heard from Mask?” Slade asks.

“Gone,” Jason answers as he walks away to entertain himself with something. “Hiding out somewhere I don't know about.”

“And Scarecrow?” Slade goes on.

“Hiding out somewhere Drake doesn't know about,” Jason assures. Good, thankfully he wasn't where Slade told them he would be. They'll see how much good that does them with Owlman back on a rampage looking for both them and Dick.

“Everyone in the city is going to be in trouble with Owlman on a rampage,” Slade says.

“Everyone in the city aren't us,” Tim replies. “If they're not strong enough to withstand _one_ of Owlman’s temper tantrums, they shouldn't be here in the first place.” Jason gives him a nasty look before turning back to Slade.

“Organizin’ all the counterforce in Gotham is gonna be rough,” he says. “They're not gonna want to play nice with each oth’a.” Tim rolls his eyes.

“We should warn them anyways,” Slade says.

“Yeah,” Jason agrees with a rather solemn nod. With the Joker dead, Gotham is the only thing stopping Owlman from starting to seep into other cities- other states. If they lose resistance here, they're in trouble. If they manage to turn Talon on Owlman, they may never have this problem again. A high risk, high reward scenario they had never planned on making.

“I'm going to shower,” Slade comments. “I'm tired of being covered in my own blood.”

“Staying together means nothing, apparently,” Tim murmurs mildly.

“You're both free to sit in the bathroom while I shower if you _want_ ,” Slade replies.

“Don't give him that offer, he might take it,” Jason scoffs. Tim glares at him and Jason glares right back.

“Deathstroke is a little old for anyone's taste,” Tim assures.

“I forgot, you prefer something a little more _brotherly_ ,” Jason replies.

“While you desperately try to replace your father,” Tim snaps. “ _Again_.”

“You little stalker bitch-” Jason begins angrily.

“I just want to take a shower,” Slade says, raising his voice only enough to be heard over them. They both look at him sourly. “No one's making you stay here, Red Bird. Red, stop trying to start shit with him. He doesn't have any feelings.”

They both scoff.

Time creeps by. They wait on baited breath for something to happen and when days go by without anything, they begin to make back up plans. The more plans they make, the more Slade feels they're already screwed if they have to use them. If Talon doesn't come through for them in a positive way, they've signed their own death warrant.

Slade has to wonder more and more what's going to happen when, or _if_ , Jason gets his brother back. Suddenly all those goals they had in common don't seem as concrete with Talon in the picture. Working with Talon seems like it would be a nightmare, anyways.

But they can only hide from Owlman for so long.

The good news is, they're all waiting for it to happen so they're not surprised when it does. Slade is hyper vigilant and it pays off. He hears the out of place sound on the roof and the second he does, he's grabbing his sword. This immediately triggers Jason into action, donning his hood, and Tim simultaneously preparing to make a run for it. The three of them bolt before they can be ambushed.

Sure enough, Nightwing is immediately on their tail. He's fast and if he manages to cut them off, they'll be forced to fight. Slade would love for things not to come to that.

“Shoot him,” Tim demands.

“I'm not shooting a kid,” Jason snaps back. That ‘kid’ is going to get them killed. They can't actually go anywhere until they lose their tail and unlike Slade, Jason and Tim can't run forever. “Let's lose them in the sewer.”

“You mean let's get cornered in the sewer?” Tim says sourly. It's all the time with the two of them. Slade doesn't have the patience for it right now. Which is good because Owlman drops down in their path. Immediately, Jason and Tim both double back to get behind Slade. Nightwing closes in behind them, sword at the ready. This was no accident, that's for sure, there's no grapple point in reach to make a swift escape and it's too narrow to get around even if Slade is distracting him.

“Plan?” Jason asks quietly.

“Don't die,” Slade answers back.

“Keep Owlman occupied until we take care of Nightwing,” Tim says. “Then run for it.”

“Weren't you the one who said not to separate?” Jason reminds him.

“Things change,” Slade says shortly. They're wasting precious time. “Deal with Nightwing fast.” He just has to try not to get killed by Owlman. This will be great. Slade braces himself for whatever is going to come and he still doesn't expect it.

Owlman jolts back suddenly, avoiding the handful of throwing feathers that come right for him. He half looks up and Slade takes a cautious step back. Talon descends into the alley.

“H _e_ y _dad_ ,” Dick purrs. “I've been looking for you. Figured I'd find you harassing Jason again.” Jason doesn't want to take his eyes off Nightwing and Slade doesn't want to take his eyes off Owlman.

“Talon,” Owlman says. He doesn't get to say anything else.

“Give me the cowl,” Dick instructs. His voice, usually accompanied by a playful lilt, is snipped and cold. He twirls his sticks and, without warning, a sharp pike springs out of each of them. “Or die in it.”

“Talon-” Owlman says, more firmly this time. Dick lunges forward and Slade instinctively moves back. He nearly trips over Tim who nearly trips over Jason and irritably pushes him away again.

“I know neither of you know what personal space is but I would like some,” Tim says scathingly. Slade has to move back again as Dick and Owlman’s fight moves towards them, pinning Tim between himself and Jason to everyone's discomfort. This isn't a good position for any of them. Dick is mean, they already knew that, but the way he goes after Owlman is with a violent, bloody sort of intent that Slade had only _thought_ he'd seen before. He's honestly trying to kill Owlman- and Owlman knows it.

“You gonna help daddy or you gonna block the way all day, baby bird?” Jason asks. Damian isn't going to help any of them. An abusive father of a son he never wanted or the one man holding him back. As much as Damian may be an enigma of his own, he's not an idiot. He's not going to pick a side until one of them proves to either be the better choice or the winner.

This is good, not just because it means Damian won't attack them yet but because he honestly doesn't know who's going to win. Dick's chance isn't just _good_ , it's likely enough to make Damian worried about helping Owlman any further.

Dick pushes back, driving Owlman out of the alley and into the street. Slade urgently follows and the others are right behind him, unwilling to remain trapped in a single file. Out in the open, the fight becomes far more intense and far more deadly. Slade is honestly shocked to find Owlman holding back but, he supposes, Dick is surely worth more than his digressions. He’s put years into Dick, into his training and his conditioning and his _breaking_. If there's a chance to bring him back around, of course Owlman is going to try to take it.

Dick doesn't have the same reluctance.

It's honestly incredible watching them fight. They're so sheerly in tune with one another, it's more akin to an extremely dangerous dance. Actual blows are rare and instead, it's a rapid exchange of parrying in coming attacks. Dick may be a show off, but it isn't without reason. In a fight with anyone else, many of his maneuvers are unnecessary. With Owlman, they're the only thing keeping him one step ahead.

They stop to breathe. Slade doesn't think he's ever seen Owlman out of breath. Dick smiles, cracked by his scars.

“All these years,” he says. “Everything I've done for you. I _worshipped_ you!” Owlman doesn't respond. He's too smart for that. “You know, I should have known. I should have known when you asked me to kill Tim’s father. You were so _mad_ you had to do it yourself.”

“Enough,” Owlman says. “We're going home.” And Dick laughs.

“Did you kill Jason's parents, too? I haven't heard from Talia in a while, did you kill her?” he asks, all teeth and mace. Damian has a full body flinch. “I'll pull your broken bones out of that suit one by fucking one.”

Then they're at it again. Maybe it's because Owlman is getting old, maybe it's because Dick has always been a little better than him, but Owlman is starting to lose ground fast and hard. Dick takes advantage of every slip up, of every misstep, and blows begin to land. Owlman is struggling.

“Give me the cowl!” Dick demands. “I can't wait to see it covered in your blood!” Knowing when he's out of depths, Owlman disengages. He flees the fight and Dick laughs but he doesn't give chase. “Don't stop running, _dad_! Never stop running! I _will_ have the cowl! Gotham’s mine!”

Maybe they've just made a bigger beast.

Dick runs his tongue over his lip, focusing on the scars that cross it, as he turns back to the rest of them. He might be worn down but with how angry he is, they'd never stand a chance. Fortunately, he doesn't seem to want to fight. He looks at Slade, then Jason and Tim, then Damian- who hasn't followed after Owlman. He wouldn't, no, he's picked the lesser of two evils and the victor. An easy choice to make.

“Oh, baby bird,” Dick hums. “You're never going to prove yourself to Bruce, you know that right? No matter what you do, no matter how _good_ you do it, you'll always just be a little bastard son.” Damian cringes. As much as Slade wants to make a move to defend him, he knows better.

“But me,” Dick goes on. He crouches in front of Damian and Damian holds his chin up attentively. “You can prove yourself to me. Bring me Tony Zucco’s head and you can be _my_ Talon. Okay?” Damian nods. “Good. If I see you again without it, _I'll take yours_.”

Another bluff, surely, but Slade can't really tell anymore. If Damian tries working with Owlman, Dick may actually try to hurt him. If he was unpredictable before, he's twice as so now. By the way Damian jerks, he clearly believes it. Urgently, he runs off. Whether he's going to do as Dick told him or go running back to Owlman, Slade isn't sure of, either. Dick grins. He turns to the rest of them again.

Slade sheathes his sword, assuring he's not interested in any further fight, but keeps his hand on the hilt.

“Talon,” Tim speaks up. “I'm sorry you had to find out this way. I didn't-”

“ _Shut up,_ ” Dick says coldly. Tim doesn't need to be told twice. Dick turns to Jason instead. “Well then, little wing, where does this leave us? Enemies or allies?”

“I want Bruce out of that suit as much as you do,” Jason says. “And I ain't got a problem with you in it.” Slade isn't sure he agrees but now obviously isn't the time to discuss that. Dick smiles.

“Then I guess we're allies,” he confirms.

“Guess so,” Jason answers and he sounds- relieved, really. They did it. They plied Dick out of Owlman’s grasp. Whether that's actually a good thing or not remains to be seen, but at any rate, Jason has his brother back. His mean, cold blooded brother.

More importantly, maybe Jason can actually act as a moral compass for Dick now.

“And what about you, _Mr_. Wilson?” Dick purrs. If Slade has learned anything, it's that he hates Dick's attention on him. “What do _you_ get out of this?”

Slade adjusts his sword and he glances back at Jason. Jason gives him a small, reassuring nod that it's fine but Slade isn't so sure about that. They've come this far, though. If they can get Dick in the cowl and somewhat listening to Jason, they might just yet be able to direct his want for blood.

“I'm putting together a team,” Slade informs. “Defiance.” Dick smiles.

“ _Ooh_. Tired of playing politics, are we?” he says. “I like you when you get your hands dirty.”

“Like someone else,” Jason growls in warning.

“Jason learned to share from me,” Dick assures. “You help me tear that cowl off dad’s still _twitching_ body and I'll make sure the League has one less player. I don't like them much, anyways.”

“Deal,” Slade says firmly. Dick offers his hand and, with only minor reluctance, Slade shakes it.

“You've made a powerful ally, Mr. Wilson.”

Slade hopes he's right.


End file.
